


like the orange tree

by cantbelieveimdoingthis (paox)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Dark Magic, F/M, Fascism, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Multi, Politics, Queer Themes, different prophecy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29840463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paox/pseuds/cantbelieveimdoingthis
Summary: Lily Evans thinks James is obnoxious. She says as much, too, because there are times when she can hold her tongue, but this isn’t one of them. She seems unhappy but unsurprised that Sirius has brought him.“Another pureblood,” she sighs, half an hour into their session that evening. “There’s a word for this feeling. Danger?”“He’s decent,” Sirius mutters, shoulder-to-shoulder with James, feeling him tense against him. “His family sucks, too.”.(or: James Potter's family are a few shades to the right of blood puritans. This time, the war burns long and slow.)
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> gonna say this here: i despise joanne with a passion, and her anti-trans activism is hurting my community deeply. i'm an out, proud trans person, and this piece dives into my experiences as a trans person, from parental problems to finding community in queer spaces, and if you sympathise with any part of her message, this is not for you. <3
> 
> warnings for: discussion of discrimination, detailed depictions of trauma, discussion and depiction of child abuse, discussions of/allusions to sex (all 18+ characters, non-graphic)

There are three other boys in the first year Gryffindor boy’s dorm. Sirius watches each of them out of the corner of his eye as he unpacks his trunk, shoving clothes haphazardly into the drawers beside and under his bed. Moonlight filters in through the window. Candles flicker overhead, enchanted to float near the ceiling. The feast ended an hour ago, and nobody has spoken yet. 

They don’t look too remarkable. A short, chubby kid with mousey hair and a weak chin digs through his trunk at the foot of the farthest bed, twitchy and nervous. At the bed beside him, a taller boy, pale and drawn with a scar-dappled face, folds his clothes gently into neat squares. And beside Sirius’ bed, a third boy, this one with a shock of dark hair and skinny arms, has sat on the mattress and is staring out of the window, face so blank you could paint a skyline across it. 

The air is tense and awkward. Cold wind bites against the glass of the window. The shortest boy changes awkwardly into his pyjamas and shuffles into bed. 

“I’m Peter,” he squeaks. When they all look up at him, he goes scarlett. “Sorry. G’night.” 

“G’night,” Sirius mutters, almost without thinking about it. The scar-faced kid echoes him. Peter draws the curtains around his bed closed. 

Silence falls again. Still sitting ramrod-still on the bed, the black-haired boy doesn’t seem to have noticed anything of the exchange. 

“Well,” the scar-faced boy sighs, straightening up. He’s got an exceptionally soft voice. He looks over at Sirius. “I’m gonna go to sleep.” Then, with a little less confidence, “Sirius, was it?”

“That’s me,” Sirius says dully. 

“Thanks.” The boy shoots him a faint smile. “I’m Remus. Remus Lupin.” 

Sirius doesn’t recognise the name.  _ Good. Don’t let any part of what they told you stick. Pry it out of you by the teeth.  _ “Good to meet you.” 

“Could you… could you wake me? Before you go down for breakfast tomorrow, I mean. I’m worried I might have forgotten the way down.” 

“‘Course,” Sirius says, before really considering it. He clears his throat. His hands have gone tingly like pins and needles. “Of course. Yeah.” 

“Thanks.” Remus grins at him. “G’night.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Remus tucks himself into bed, drawing the curtains around himself, too. Sirius glances at the black-haired boy, then around the room, and then sighs, waving a hand absently towards the ceiling. The candles flicker out in a soft, rippling wave. The room goes dark. 

The black-haired boy’s bed starts to shake. 

Without really thinking about it, Sirius stands up, stretching. He wanders around the boy’s bed to sit on his other side, so he, too, can see the moon. Their legs brush. 

“I’m Sirius,” he says. “Sirius Black.” 

“I know.” For the first time, the black-haired boy looks over at him. “James Potter.” 

That’s a name Sirius does recognise. He winces. Ten years ago, the head of the Potter family signed off his allegiance to the Dark Lord in a vote for a radical conservative bill on the Wizengamot. Three years ago, a Potter cousin’s head was found in a ditch in the midlands. They’re a bloody family with a bloody history. There’s dark in their past like you wouldn’t believe, not unless you’d grown up like Sirius did, and then you’d believe it just fine. 

“You asked for Gryffindor too?”

James nods. He laughs. It sounds more like a sob. “They’re gonna fucking  _ kill _ me.” 

“Me, too.” 

“Right.” James rubs at his face hard with both hands, like he can scrub himself away. His shoulders are so taut that they might snap, like pearls or plexiglass. 

Tentatively, Sirius reaches out a hand to touch his arm. James Potter grabs at his wrist, grips it like a lifeline, warm fingers pressing into his pulse spot. 

“Thanks,” he whispers. 

“It’s okay,” Sirius whispers back. “I’m scared, too.” 

“Guess I’m not alone.” 

“Ha.” Sirius’ chest rattles with a laugh. He can’t tell if it’s false. “I’ll be the first Black defector for fifteen years.” 

James’ grip on his wrist tightens. “We had one a few years ago. They killed her.” 

The Blacks tried to kill Andromeda, too, but Sirius doesn’t mention that, because he thinks it’ll probably just make James feel worse. Instead, he nudges James with his shoulder. “You wanna sneak out?” 

A short pause. “Yeah,” James whispers. “Where should we go?”

“I dunno.” Sirius stands up, bare feet sinking into the carpet. He wiggles his toes and tries to convince himself that this is what freedom tastes like -- this, here, now, the smell of moonlight, the taste of dust on the air, the dim light casting shadows over the red and gold bedsheets. James’ brown eyes peering up at him through the gloom, alight with fear. “Somewhere.” 

* * *

Slytherins jeer at them in the halls. It would have just been annoying if it wasn’t fucking terrifying. Neither James nor Sirius has siblings in Hogwarts right now, but they’ve both got all manner of cousins, near and distant. Their red and gold uniforms feel like a curse more than a point of pride. Older Gryffindors stand up for them when they’re around, seeming to understand that the two are in a difficult spot, so meals in the Great Hall aren’t so bad, but everywhere else is free reign. And when the howlers start arriving, it’s only a matter of time before James’ twitchiness becomes a constant feature. 

(James’ first howler arrives with the evening mail the night after the sorting. A sleek black owl rattles on the window of their dorm until James lets it in. Peter and Remus leave as James opens it. Sirius stays.)

The other two young Gryffindor boys spend as much time with them as they can. The four of them trek to lessons together, sticking together like a pack of dogs. Peter is prone to intense anxiety -- not in the way James is, because James gets quiet and still and shaky, and Peter just rambles and blushes and flees -- but he’s funny when he’s not scared, full of good jokes and quidditch trivia. Remus is soft and smiley, always seeming shocked that he’s got friends at all, and he’s quiet and studious and James seems to like him a lot, so Sirius does, too. 

“He’s safe,” James assures Sirius one night, in one of their long, late-night talks on James’ bed, silencing charm up but whispering anyway, lying side by side in a patch of moonlight. “Remus, I mean.” 

“I don’t trust that easily.” 

James smiles very slightly, so slightly that it could be a trick of the light. The more Sirius looks, the more it looks like he’s frowning. “I’d like to try to.” 

“...Do you think Peter’s safe, too?” 

James shrugs. “He’s a pureblood.” 

“Birds of a feather, then.” 

“Maybe.” James stares at him in the dark. “Do you think he’s safe?” 

Sirius hesitates. That’s more than words can say. Neither of them knows how to trust people, least of all people with surnames you can recognise. 

Their first month passes in a blur of fear and discomfort. James takes the mocking with a stony face, shoulders drawn up to his ears, a shadow across his face. His eyes are so brown that they could almost be on fire. Sirius shouts and rages and hexes, curses any Slytherin who thinks they can get the upper hand. He’s in detention half the time, and the other half of the time, he’s the surrogate leader of their little group. James sticks close to his side, Remus wanders along with them amicably, and Peter trails in their wake, uncertain of whether he’s got the right to join in. 

There are small blessings, though. James loves Transfiguration, loves it with a burning passion. Sirius thrives in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus excels at Charms. Peter’s got a green thumb that predisposes him to herbology, and he’s great at potions, too. 

“We’re a little team,” James comments one time, murmured quietly from Sirius’ side at the library. “I’ve never had that before.” 

“We’re gonna kick their slimy asses,” Sirius promises. 

“If you two hold a grudge against the Slytherins, they’ll never leave you alone,” Remus comments, not looking up from his book. 

Sirius and James exchange looks. They both know it’s not about the Slytherins. 

* * *

The war begins that Christmas, two days before everybody’s due to go home. 

It doesn’t start yet, not really. The real fighting -- the ministry takeover, the deaths and torture and terrorism -- won’t start for years. But in the textbooks, it starts that Christmas. 

The Dark Lord unveils himself at a ministry summit in early December, declares his name and his political goals. His plan for the future of Wizarding Britain. One by one, the houses that stand with him support his proposed vote of non-confidence against the minister. The House of Black and the House of Potter stand behind him without question. 

He loses by a hair. It’s almost worse this way. People have been disappearing for years, but now, there will be more. 

At 6PM that evening, Sirius drags James up to Professor McGonagall’s office. He raps his knuckles against the door, James’ hand tight around his other wrist. 

McGonagall opens the door, takes one look at the both of them and sighs. 

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to stay here for the holidays?” she asks, rather unimpressed. 

“That was the idea, Professor,” Sirius says. He’s surprised his voice doesn’t come out choked. “I know we both said we’d be going home before, but that was before-” 

She lifts a hand. “I know,” she sighs. “I know, Mr. Black. I’ve already had plenty of students approach me about this today, most planning on leaving when they might have stayed.” She hesitates. “You’ll find it to be a lonely Christmas. Both of you.” 

“That’s fine,” James speaks up. McGonagall and Sirius turn to stare at him. His eyes are glued to the floor. After a second, he looks at up her. “Anywhere’s better than home.” 

( _ Help me, _ his eyes say.  _ Help us. _ )

McGonagall’s face tightens. She lets out this horrible, sad sigh, like somebody’s pet has died. “If either of you needs anything-” She hesitates. “As your head of house, you are always welcome to talk to me. You understand, both of you?” 

“Yes,” Sirius mutters. He shifts his wrist down, locking his fingers with James’. 

James squeezes his hand. “Yes,” he echoes. 

McGonagall closes the door. The hallway is plunged into darkness. 

Sirius sinks against the wall. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters. “It’s gonna be bad. James, it’s gonna be bad.” 

* * *

Remus goes home for Christmas, though he seems very sad about it. He hugs Sirius before he leaves, quick and tight, a sharp squeeze around the ribs like he’s trying to hold him together. 

Peter stays at Hogwarts. He’s a third generation pureblood with a startlingly normal family -- not too dark, not too outspoken, not muddy enough to be considered blood traitors, not rich enough to be considered purists. Sirius envies him deeply. 

All through that Christmas, it’s terribly quiet. The castle echoes more, it feels like, rattling even when there’s nobody there. Teachers patrol the hallways at night; they never used to do that before. Sirius, James and Peter drift between the Great Hall, Gryffindor Tower and the library. James has frequent, terrible nightmares that keep him up for hours on end. His sleep schedule slides so far off the deep end that Sirius thinks it might end up reversed by the end of the break. 

That Christmas is also when Sirius meets Lily Evans. 

They run into each other in the restricted section of the library. It’s past midnight, and Sirius has been trying to figure out how to crack the curse on the books for weeks, and he thinks he’s just about got it when he sees her face between the shelves, ghostly white by the lamplight. They stare at one another for ten seconds, maybe more. Then, Lily puts a finger to her lips and gestures towards the back of the library, past the restricted section, where the court records and newspaper archives pile so high that they would obscure them well. 

Sirius has never spoken to her before. She’s a muggleborn, and even more awkwardly, she’s a  _ girl. _

He follows her anyway. 

They huddle between two piles of archived copies of some old Wizarding paper that went out of print a century ago, legs touching. Lily’s got these pale, knobbly knees that remind Sirius of James. Her sharp green eyes stab through him.

“So,” Sirius starts, barely above a whisper. “The counter spell I’ve been thinking of to break the hex on the books in the restricted section goes  _ liberum libri- _ ” He makes a gesture like swinging his wrist in a long, slow arc. “And then a jab, and finish it over the book you want, and say  _ nunc. _ ”

Lily eyes him. She pulls a notebook out of her pocket and scrubs through her notes. “See,” she whispers, resting it on their knees, “I’ve got _liberum librae_ _nunc_ , and then do the motion- the circle, then the jab. Incantation first.” 

“You pronounced the first word wrong.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Lily snaps. “It’s the plural.” 

“...And?” 

Lily glances at him. The corner of her lips twitches. “Don’t you want to take out more than one book at a time?” 

Sirius gawps at her. 

“Not bad for a muggleborn.” Lily shoves her book back into her pocket. She goes to stand. 

Before he can stop it, Sirius’ hand snaps out to grab her wrist. Lily pauses, in a sort of half-crouch, raising an eyebrow. 

“What?” she hisses. 

“I-” Sirius’ tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “I’m engaged.” 

Lily stares at him. “Excuse me?” 

“I’m engaged,” Sirius says again, almost gasps out the words. It feels like a vacuum has opened up in the pit of his stomach, chewing on his internal organs. Then, “Please don’t go yet.” 

The world lurches from dim silver to black. Spots fill Sirius’ vision. Everything squeezes in on him and the world compresses into a tiny ball of pressure, like somebody has wrapped a million rubber bands around Sirius’ head. When sight comes back, Lily is sitting opposite him again. One of his hands is cradled between two of hers. 

Sirius counts his breaths. In. Out. In. Out. This is how you keep on living. Even if it’s not for you, it’s for James, and he’s more important, more important than you or your mother or the Dark Lord or the whole damned House of Black. In. Out. In. Out.

The room clears. Dark patches remain, faint colour swirling within them, but Sirius can tell himself they’re just shadows. 

“You had an anxiety attack,” Lily murmurs. “Or are they called panic attacks?” 

Back in Sirius’ house, they were called signs of weakness. He elects not to say this out loud. 

“You’re engaged?” Lily asks. Her hands are very warm, and the palms are soft. 

Sirius nods. “To my cousin. She’s nineteen.”

A short, sharp intake of breath. Sirius wants to use these warm hands and this warm, soft heart to light a fire and burn down every pureblood house in the country. 

“I’m sorry,” Lily whispers. 

“She’s a death eater.” 

“I know.” 

“And I don’t have a choice.”

“I know.” 

Sirius hesitates. “You’re muggleborn, though.” 

Lily Evans smiles at him, something sharp in it, like her displeasure has teeth. “I have eyes.” 

Sirius’ chest tightens again, in a rippling wave. It feels like a hex or a lung infection or a cancer. “I don’t hate you,” he wheezes. 

“I figured as much.” Lily squeezes his hand. Her thumb runs in slow circles over the back of it, tracing a swirl into the skin there. “I don’t hate you, either. Or your friend. He’s the same, isn’t he? I see how the Slytherins look at you.” 

“You’re friends with one of them, aren’t you?” 

A wry smile. “Sev’s a halfblood.” 

“Bet his Slytherin buddies hate you too, though.” 

“I can handle it just fine.” 

Sirius wants to find some snappy retort to that, some sharp comeback, something that isn’t  _ I can’t handle a fucking thing, I’m snapping into a million little pieces, watch me go supernova, it’s been eleven years and if they hit me one more time I might just catch fire. _

“I need to get out,” Sirius whispers. He takes Lily’s hands in both of his own, holding them against his chest. “I need to get out.” 

Lily doesn’t respond. When he looks up, she’s got a hard, contemplative look on her face. Something between thoughtful and vicious. 

* * *

As spring arrives, James comes out of his shell a little. 

He’s still painfully jumpy, but he takes to Sirius’ fiery anger like it’s his own, starts shooting back sparks himself when the Slytherins send jabs. He’s amazing at wordless hexes -- a swish of his wand under the table and he can send ten of them howling for the nurse’s office -- and he gets this bright, vindicated grin on his face when one of his pranks goes just right. 

Outside of Hogwarts’ walls, the war simmers. Muggleborns go missing. The editor of The Daily Prophet vanishes overnight. But in here, it’s safe. Dumbledore smiles at Sirius in the hallway one time. Sirius’ heart squeezes so tight he thinks it might give out.  _ You don’t need their approval, _ he tells himself almost daily.  _ Dumbledore can smile at you all he likes, and if they don’t like it, they can fuck off. You don’t need fucking anybody. All you need is your wand and your wits and you could kill God if you wanted to. _

Sirius keeps having nightly meetings with Lily. They steal books from the restricted section and read them in the archives, in a small space they hole out against the back wall, out of view of any passing professors. Lily is fascinated by the history of the magical world -- by its families, its traditions, its laws. Sirius would rather pretend that all that stuff doesn’t exist, so he reads up on forbidden magic; dangerous hexes, wild curses, wandless enchantments, extraordinary accidental magic, ancient runes. 

Lily’s smart and soft and pretty, and she doesn’t understand, not like James does, but she’s willing to offer a shoulder nonetheless. Sirius appreciates her deeply. Outside of their nightly meetings, they pretend the other doesn’t exist. That’s fine. God forbid Sirius’ fascist relatives start picking on Lily, too. 

“Your friend’s a werewolf, by the way,” she offers one night, not looking up from her book. 

Sirius startles, glancing up at her. “What?” 

She laughs slightly. “I said your friend’s a werewolf. What’s his name, Lupin? He’s a lycanthrope.” 

“That’s-” Sirius frowns. It hits him like a truck. It’s sort of funny. Funny in the way a broken leg is funny. “Oh Merlin,” he says. “You’re right.” 

Lily laughs ever so slightly. “I won’t tell,” she whispers. “You should talk to him about it, though. Maybe he’d understand you better if you did.” 

Sirius thinks of James’ long nightmares, of his sleepless nights and the curse scars across his pale, narrow spine. He thinks of Peter’s nervous, vibrating energy. He thinks of Remus, soft and caring, just happy to be there, scars criss-crossing his face, missing from the dorm once a month. So determined not to worry anybody. 

“I think he might,” Sirius agrees. He sinks back against the wall, heaving a sigh. “You’re brilliant, you know that?” 

“That’s the first time anybody’s said that to me since I got here.” Lily smiles wryly. 

“I’ll make sure to say it more,” Sirius promises. 

“Do that,” Lily agrees. She sounds a little less like she’s joking, and for the first time, Sirius imagines they’ll have a similar future, the two of them. Unemployed at best. Treasonous at worst. Maybe they’ll go on the run together someday, he imagines. Maybe she’ll hold his hand then, too. 

That evening, when Sirius sneaks back into the first years’ dorm, James is up waiting for him. It’s only 1AM. Usually, it takes James a few more hours to tremble awake, to shuffle over to Sirius and wake him, too, when the fear comes. 

“Hey,” Sirius murmurs. He shuffles out of his jacket, a shirt and sweats underneath to sleep in. “You okay, Jam?” 

James’ sharp-edged silhouette seems to loom out at him from its place framed against the window. He doesn’t move for a while. 

Sirius sits beside him. Like it’s second nature, James loops their wrists together. 

“Yeah,” James whispers. He waves his wand, whispers, “Silencio.” 

“Thanks,” Sirius murmurs. He looks at James. They’re the same height right now, roughly, though when they’re standing, Sirius towers over all three of the others, even James. “What’s up?” 

“I… I dunno.” James seems to think long and hard. “Your parents,” he says, stilted. “Do they hit you?” 

It’s an odd question, coming from James. Sirius had assumed everything between them didn’t need speaking out loud. That it was good enough living in their silence, quiet and understood. 

“Yeah,” he says, despite this. “Yeah, they do.” 

“With their hands?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. My mother used to hit me with a chair leg.” Sirius snorts. “It wasn’t about discipline, not really. It was about anger.” 

James is so stiff he might as well be a statue. “Did they ever use curses?” 

“Sometimes. Only when I really fucked up.” 

“Right.”

“Why?” 

Like it’s extraordinarily hard to say it, James takes a deep breath and murmurs, “Sirius, they don’t touch me. At all. I don’t- I think it’s about power more than anything. The idea that they can have power over me without even touching me. They like that feeling. So they only use curses.”

Sirius tries not to let his breathing waver. “Unforgivables?” 

Chin shaking, James nods. “Sometimes,” he gasps. “Sometimes, yeah.” 

Something about that is worse to Sirius. Way worse. The idea of it makes him feel sort of sick. “Did they ever hug you, growing up?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. 

James shakes his head. His dark head of hair tickles Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius opens his arms. Miserably, with a sort of precariousness to his movements like he thinks he might get tossed across the room, James shuffles in, and Sirius folds himself around him like paper, like something malleable and firm like the card they use to make bookmarks. Something that won’t break. James worms his thin arms around Sirius’ stomach, breath hot in the crook of his neck. They stay like that for a long time, and at some point, they find themselves under the covers, shuffling under the blankets. 

Here in the darkness, they could be faceless. They could be anybody. 

“Remus is a werewolf, by the way,” Sirius whispers. 

James shakes with a laugh. “I waited long enough for you to figure it out,” he replies into Sirius’ neck.

“What do we do about it?” Sirius hears his own voice tighten. “I don’t like liars. They remind me of home.” 

James draws a breath to say something, then lets it go. A soft sigh escapes him, fading into the dark. “I want to help,” he says. “Somehow. You see the way he holds himself. He’s hurt. Going to be hurt more.” 

“Sure.” Sirius buries his nose in the pillow. “But he’s not hurt like we are.” 

“Maybe. But it still counts.” 

“What do you want to do?”

James rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, forehead creased. “I’ll figure out a plan. You’re not the only one interested in rare magic.” 

“I’ve never kept it a secret where I go-” 

James glances at him. “I don’t like liars. They remind me of home.” 

“...Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. Next time, I’m coming with you.” 

“It’s not just me that goes,” Sirius cuts in. “It’s, uh, me and a friend. If that’s okay.” 

James goes stiff. “One of your family?” he asks, barely above a whisper. His voice grounds down on the words like a pestle. 

“No” Sirius is quick to interject. “No, nothing like that. You’ll see. She’s in our year.” 

James laughs, a strangled sort of noise. “A girl?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You like her?” 

“What? No.” 

But James’ face has gone distant, that same blankness overtaking it. He looks over at Sirius, and there’s something in his eyes like he’s never see him before. “I think we should go to sleep. Next time you go, tell me.”

“I…” Sirius reaches out to loop their wrists again. Their palms brush. “I’m not going anywhere, Jam.” 

James nods. Sirius can tell he doesn’t believe him. 

* * *

Lily Evans thinks James is obnoxious. She says as much, too, because there are times when she can hold her tongue, but this isn’t one of them. She seems unhappy but unsurprised that Sirius has brought him. 

“Another pureblood,” she sighs, half an hour into their session that evening. “There’s a word for this feeling. Danger?” 

“He’s decent,” Sirius mutters, shoulder-to-shoulder with James, feeling him tense against him. “His family sucks, too.” 

Lily narrows her eyes at James, then looks back down at her book. “Doesn’t mean I have to trust him.”

James seems like he almost wants to agree with her. Anything to make her smile at him. He gets this entranced look about him. In another world, if things had been different, he might have made a snide joke, something to make her blush or giggle or frown. He might have been mean in that way boys are mean when they think it’ll make girls want them. 

In this world, he stares at her as she reads, eyes bright with something like admiration. 

“She’s got nice hair,” he mumbles to Sirius that night, when they get back to their dorm. Remus sleeps silently in the next bed over. Peter snores across the room. 

“Oh, yeah?” Sirius whispers. “I thought so, too.” 

This means something, some part of him clocks. This must mean something. But he’s too tired to think about it. 

* * *

A few weeks later, Remus comes back from one of his mysterious absences even more cut up than usual. There’s a thick, mottled gash down the centre of his face, and he doesn’t come back until the evening after his absent night, which is later than usual, all bandaged up and walking like a wrong step might shatter him. 

Peter’s off serving detention with McGonagall for missed homework. Sirius and James share a look when Remus walks in, and then they sit him down at the top of his bed, sitting beside one another at the foot. 

Remus glances between them, from face to sombre face. “What’s wrong?” 

“We know,” Sirius says flatly, because he’s never been good at tact or softness or anything like that. “About what you are, I mean. We know.” 

For a moment, Remus doesn’t seem to process the words. Then, he goes stiff. “Who told you?” he asks, so breathless it’s like his lungs have shrunk. 

“We figured it out,” James says evasively. “We-” He glances at Sirius. “We grew up in dark families. Dark, dark families. We know how to recognise this stuff. We haven’t known for long.” 

Remus doesn’t look at either of them, just stares down at the bedsheets. “Does Peter…?”

“If he does, he hasn’t told us,” Sirius says. Remus knows about how close he and James are. He can deduce that they’ve had these conversations in private. 

Remus doesn’t talk for a long time, so long that it stretches beyond a pause and into a silence. There’s something resigned in his face as he seems to think hard about what he’s just learned, so hard it hurts. 

Then, he lets out a long, sharp sigh. He reaches up to rub his scarred face. 

“I can be moved out by tomorrow morning,” he says simply. “I’ll start packing my things. I don’t know what Dumbledore wants to do with me… he’ll figure something out.” 

“What?” Sirius asks. 

Remus flinches. He looks up at Sirius, bloodshot eyes very dark. “What?” he echoes. 

“You’re not moving,” Sirius clarifies. “That’s not what this is.” 

“Then what is it?” 

Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know. But we like you, Remus, you’re our friend. You can’t go.” 

Remus seems to find that quite funny. “Hah. Right. I’m going to start packing-” 

James grabs Remus’ arm. He stares him in the eye with intent. “We don’t want you to go,” he says. “We want to help. We want to keep being your friend.” 

“James-” 

“You’re not leaving,” James says, like it’s final. Like it’s simple. Like any of this is simple. “Sirius and I have seen enough shit, this doesn’t scare us. If Peter’s got a problem, he can see us about it. That’s it. Okay?” 

Wide-eyed, Remus looks between them. The wolf is far from his face in that moment. He looks like a scared rabbit, like a car crash, like a forest fire. Nothing like a predator. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “If you’re really sure.” 

“Yeah,” James says. Sirius gets the impression that James, too, has never had friends like this before. “Yeah, Remus, of course.”

* * *

An Auror vanishes in early May and it makes the headlines, but only for a day. The article reads more like an obituary than anything else. That or a warning. Whoever wrote it was probably under intense scrutiny when they did, Sirius thinks, because political tensions are high right now, higher than they’ve ever been, and Sirius knows what it’s like to have to walk on eggshells. 

“It’s bullshit. There’s nothing but fluff in there, no new information, no opinion, nothing,” James mutters, slapping that morning’s copy of The Prophet down onto the table at breakfast. He accidentally knocks over a sugarpot and stops and stares and then laughs about it, really laughs about it, rather than tensing up and going pale. 

That’s something. In the midst of all of this, Sirius thinks, that’s something. 

By the last months of the year, the Slytherins’ mockery has died down a little. They seem to understand that misfortune will befall them if they poke at the four Gryffindor firsties, be it Remus tipping the teachers off about it, James cursing them to hell and back, or Sirius’ bold fists and cutting tongue. Peter helps sometimes, too -- messes up the others’ potions in class, contaminates their ingredients -- and Slughorn loves him, so nobody seems to notice. 

James darkens readily when he’s out in the sun, until he’s the same waferish shade of tan as Remus, freckles all across his straight nose. He gets some meat on his bones in the last few months, too, less afraid to spend time in the great hall, more willing to savour his food. He looks nothing like the boy from that first night in their dorm, Sirius realises one day, as the four of them sit by the lake and James throws stones into the water, trying and failing to skim them across the glassy surface. 

Remus elbows him in the ribs. “You okay?” 

“What?” 

“You’re staring.” 

“Oh.” Sirius clears his throat. “I’m good.” 

Remus shoots him a very knowing smile. “Alright.” 

“What? Remus, what?” 

“Nothing! Nothing.” Remus flops onto his back. He’s in the middle of his cycle right now, at the sweet spot between two moons, and even he’s looking healthy, skin bright under the flowering sun. He squints up into the sky. “You’re a good friend.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Sirius grunts, shuffling to lean back against a tree. “I do my best.”

“Can’t believe there’s only a few weeks left,” Peter says glumly, from Remus’ other side. “I don’t wanna go home.” 

Remus and Sirius exchange very brief glances. Sirius studies Peter’s side profile for a moment. “Why’s that, Pete?” 

“I dunno.” Peter sighs. “I get on with my mother fine, I guess. It’s just me and her. But she’s…” 

He trails off and then sighs, not seeming to want to continue the conversation. 

“Right,” Sirius says. “I get it.” 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t think he could ever get it; the idea of having a positive relationship with a parent is alien on some days and downright scary on others. 

A branch cracks behind them as somebody emerges from the foliage. Sirius looks around and it’s Lily, red hair tied back into a tight knot on the top of her head, arms piling with books and papers. 

“Hi,” she says. She stops, then, slightly awkward. “Is there a spot for me?” 

“Of course,” Remus says immediately. He rolls to his feet and sits next to Sirius against the tree, and Lily sits down in the grass where he had been before, spreading out her work in front of her. 

“I, uh,” she says, looking up. “Wanted to come spend time with you all. Before term lets out. If that’s okay.” 

James hasn’t noticed anything yet, still facing the lake, twenty metres or so away. Sirius exchanges a meaningful look with Lily. She looks from him to James and back again, raising an eyebrow. 

“Uh, yeah,” Sirius says. He coughs. “Jam? Jam!” 

“Yeah?” James tosses one more stone for luck, then turns around, not seeing it skim the surface in four perfect leaps. His face goes slack when he sees Lily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Lily says, a little stiff, a little prim. “I wanted to come down here for the afternoon.” 

“That’s fine.” The words tumble out of James one by one like the start of an avalanche. “Yeah, that’s great. Hi. Sit down.” 

“I am sitting,” Lily comments blythely. 

James’ face lights up like a Christmas tree -- that is, something between flushed red and mortified green. “Right.” He shuffles over and sits down on the other side of Lily and her notes. “What are you working on?” 

The two of them duck their heads over Lily’s transfiguration paper, which must be for extra credit, because Sirius doesn’t recognise any of it. Remus falls asleep against the tree, head tilted up to the sun, and Sirius idly casts a hovering charm over one of his books and makes it float over Remus’ face to keep from sunburn.

Peter wanders off down the lakeside, looking for algae or newts or some new type of seaweed he can show the herbology professor. Sirius takes James’ place as sentinel at the water’s edge, throwing stones. Every single one of them skims. It doesn’t feel like a victory. 

Later, as night falls, Sirius corners Lily as they trek back to the castle. He offers to carry her stuff, and they end up splitting it between them, because Sirius’ upper body strength isn’t his greatest pride, if anything could be said to be. Living in Grimmauld Place’s cellar half the year will do that to you. 

Up ahead, James, Remus and Peter eagerly discuss the next major league quidditch game. Here, Sirius and Lily can’t be heard. 

“Why did you come?” Sirius asks. He doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding accusatory, but it does. 

Lily stabs a look through him, eyes very hard. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know that. They’ll pick on you now, too.” 

“You think they don’t pick on me already? I’m a mudblood.” The word falls off her lips as easily as breathing, or maybe as easily as throwing up. 

Sirius winces. “Don’t call yourself-” 

“Don’t tell me I can’t.” Lily’s face darkens against the sunset. “I’ll find power in whatever I want to, Sirius.” 

“...Sorry.” 

She sighs. “Don’t be. And you shouldn’t have to ask. You know why I’m here.” 

Sirius nods. He does. Up ahead, James trips over his own feet on his way up the hill and staggers into Remus, the three boys howling with laughter. 

“There’s not much I can do,” Sirius starts. 

“Well, there’s not anything I can do, either, from the Muggle world,” Lily says. “So that’s better than what I can offer.”

“...They wouldn’t stop me from sending letters, so long as it wasn’t too frequent. He’s from a respectable family, after all.” 

“Good. Good, yeah, thank god.” Lily says nothing for a while. “I’m just worried I’ll come back in September and…”

“And he won’t,” Sirius finishes. “I know.” 

She glances sidelong at him. “I’m not just worried he’ll disappear,” she murmurs. “I worry about you, too.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you?”

“I’ve been fine this long, haven’t I?”

“It’s not just James that’s suffering.” 

Sirius shrugs. “Just how pureblood families are.” 

“Would you say that to him?” 

“What? No. Of course not.” 

Lily shakes her head like somebody’s given a wrong answer in class. “Then don’t say it to yourself.” 

Sirius grabs her arm and pulls her to a stop. “I meant it. I’m fine.” 

“And if I don’t believe you?” 

“This can’t- we can’t make this about me. About me and my  _ suffering _ . Okay? We can’t. This is about him. Getting him out. You don’t know him like I do, it’s crushing him. One of these days it’s gonna break him.” 

“Maybe I don’t know him as well,” Lily says, green eyes very bright against the swelling dusk. “But I know him well enough to know that he’d say the exact same thing about you.” 

She takes back her books and leaves him there, standing alone on the path up to the school. 

* * *

On their last morning of first year, Peter and Remus go out to give their borrowed books back to the librarian. Sun burns through every window in the castle, lighting the walls ablaze, and as morning crests, Sirius and James visit McGonagall one more time. 

She opens her office door after three knocks. “I’m not taking visitors this early-” She pauses when she sees who it is. “Mr. Black, Mr. Potter.” 

“Hi, professor,” James mumbles, looking steadfastly at the ground. 

A stiff silence follows. 

“Well?” McGonagall asks promptly. “What is it?” 

“It’s-” Sirius winces. He wishes she would just get it. That he wouldn’t have to say it. On impulse, he pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal a long, ugly curse scar. Most of his body is free of scars, because the Blacks are loath to damage their property. This one didn’t seem to want to fade, maybe just to prove that it had been there. To say,  _ I hurt. I hurt and hurt and didn’t stop hurting.  _

He can tell by her face that McGonagall knows what it is immediately. She goes very still and she stares. 

“He’s got them, too,” Sirius says, tilting his head at James. “More than me.”

James squeezes his wrist. He still doesn’t look up. 

McGonagall draws in a deep breath. She straightens up to her full height and says, emphatically, “If there was anything I could do, Mr. Black, you know I would do it. But when it… when it comes to families-” 

Betrayal sets in like a cold. It makes Sirius’ whole body ache in a rush, like he’s come down with a fever. “Let’s go, James,” he chokes out, but after a few moments, it’s James who has to drag him away. 

McGonagall watches them all the way down the hallway. 

* * *

He and James hug it out before they pull into Paddington, in case either of their families sees them. Peter and Remus look away as James wriggles his arms around Sirius’ neck, face stuffed into his shirt like he’d like to crawl into Sirius’ skin for a while. Sirius clings back.  _ I’ll be the anchor. I’ll be the river to drag you back to sea once these three months are over _ . 

Lily doesn’t look away. She’s spent most of the ride with Severus Snape in one of the Slytherins’ compartments. Now, she sits with the four Gryffindor boys, eyes burning into Sirius’ over the top of James’ head. 

“You’ll be okay,” Sirius lies into James’ hair. 

James nods. “I know,” he lies back. “You, too.” 

Sirius forces a smile. He squeezes harder. “You know me. I’m always fine.” 

The station swells into view outside of the window, only minutes away. James breaks away, rubbing his pale face like he can swab away the freckles or the rebellion from his skin. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

Sirius doesn’t answer that. Instead, he grins at Peter. “Where’s my hug, then?” 

Peter gives good hugs, very tight and very warm. Remus is bad at it, and Sirius gets the impression that, like James, he’s unused to touch. It feels like Christmas all over again. Like he’s trying to hold him together. 

While Remus takes James aside, telling him intently that he has to stay safe, that he has to keep himself out of trouble so they can all make mischief together in autumn, Lily surprises Sirius with a short hug, too. 

“He needs you,” she whispers into Sirius’ ear, arms around his shoulders. She presses a chocolate frog into his hand. 

“I know,” Sirius whispers back. He pulls away and bites the head off the chocolate frog. It’s all too melodramatic for him, he tells himself, as the group steals last hugs, as the sickly blankness takes over James’ face again. Sirius stretches his arms right up to the ceiling, and Platform 9¾ lurches into place around the train. 

At the beginning of the year, autumn came like a hurricane. Now, Sirius knows, as he drags his trunk out onto the platform, summer will set in like a prophecy. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments really do mean the world to me! <3

Petunia hates her now. Lily spends half the summer heartbroken, and the other half planning. 

It’s hard not to mope, truly -- when somebody’s been your best friend for years, when you grew up under their wing, it sucks when they take it away. It burns like salt in a very old wound. Lily wonders sometimes whether Tuney would have ended up hating her anyway, somehow. Whether this was inevitable. 

Her parents are encouraging, but they don’t understand, not really. Lily couldn’t tell them about the war -- about the Dark Lord, about the discrimination, about the pureblood supremacy and the politics and the fear. They would pull her out of school, or worse, they would worry. She can’t let that happen. 

She’s twelve now, and as far as Lily’s concerned, that’s old enough to take care of problems on her own. So she spends half the summer mourning the loss of Petunia, and the other half planning, planning, planning. 

The school is strict about taking library books home, but Lily is good at weaseling her way around the staff, especially the librarian. Madam Pince loves her, thinks the world of quiet, polite students who don’t break the rules. When she asked what family Lily hails from at the start of the year, Lily lied. Now, she’s got a trunkful of books on magical legislation, and she’s going to find her way out of this problem even if it takes up her whole summer. 

You get through life a little easier when people think you care about the rules. That’s something Lily learned quickly when she entered Hogwarts, and even more so when she learned that there are an intricate set of rules about blood in place in this world, too. Rules she breaks by existing, but moreover, rules that can be bent. 

And if she can bend the rules, well, Lily’s sure she can bend a few for Sirius and James. 

They’re obnoxious, both of them, but in that quiet sort of way that boys are when they think they’re better than you but don’t want to say it. Lily knows their type, knows how they grew up. Even Sev gets shut-off and cruel about her blood sometimes, and he grew up with her. It makes it hard to talk to them, hard to even look Sirius in the eyes some nights, especially after the news of his family’s continued support of the Dark Lord. 

( _ Voldemort, _ Lily tells herself, repeats it to herself whenever she can get some peace. At night, mostly, staring out at the clouds through the window, Petunia staying out later and later with friends to avoid her.  _ Voldemort. His name is Voldemort. If you’re afraid to say it, it means you’re afraid of him, and in the Wizarding World, you can’t afford to be afraid of anything.) _

But more than he’s scary, more than he’s obnoxious, Sirius is hurt. Hurt deeply. James, too. There are shadows in both of their eyes like nothing Lily had seen before entering the magical world. They seem to understand each other, in that respect. 

Lily knew what it was from the first night she met Sirius. It wasn’t hard to figure out. 

Bellatrix Black, her name is -- the woman Sirius is engaged to marry. A graduate as of last year, and from what Lily has gathered, hardly an academic achiever. From the records Lily was able to find, she was almost expelled in her fifth year for using the cruciatus curse on another student's cat. Imagining Sirius under the cruciatus cruse stings worse than Tuney's rejection ever could. The scarce consolation, Lily supposes, is that she doubts it would be his first time. 

But, no, such a consolation is not needed. Not if Lily has any say in it.

She starts to build up a portfolio of notes. Old court cases, old family disputes, Gringotts records, MLE reports. The toothy, gaping maw of magical law opens up before her, and inside, the fangs are rotting out of their gums. It's corrupt and bloody and barbaric. Lily continues to stick her hand inside. 

As July ferments into August, Severus starts getting increasingly upset about Lily's emotional absence, about her distance and lack of spare time. 

"We've only got a few more weeks," he keeps telling her. "Until we have to go back, I mean. Don't you want to make the most of our time?" 

"I'd love to, Sev," she snaps at one point, overtired and exasperated, "But if you really wanted to, you could spend all the time you wanted with me in school -- you just won't, because you're scared of what they'll think of you, spending time with a Gryffindor, and a mud-"

"Don't say that," Snape cuts in angrily. "It's not about that. They'll be worse to you if I-" 

"Don't lie," Lily sighs. "I'm not stupid. I don’t know how they could get worse to me. But they could certainly stand to be crueler to you." 

Before Severus can respond, she stands up, tucking her portfolio under her arm. The early August sun burns down over them both, shining over the top of Severus' dark head. 

"I've got to get back to work," she says. "Bye, Sev." 

She's halfway down the lane away from the park when Severus catches up with her. He snares her wrist in his cold hand. He's had a growth spurt lately, and now they're both the same height, eye to eye. 

"Wait," Severus responds, almost breathless. "Lily, I'm sorry. I really am. About not being around in term time. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine." Lily pulls her wrist away. She sighs. "Severus, it's fine, it's just- it's just not fine, too. Not fine that you didn't tell me about the war, or about how I'd be treated for who I am, or about any of it. That's not fine." 

"I figured I'd protect you. That you'd be in Slytherin. I could keep you safe from it all then." 

Lily squares her jaw. "Maybe I'm just braver than you." 

"Maybe you are," Severus says. He sniffs and takes a step back. "Just think about it. Spending more time together, I mean. If you can."

Lily feels some part of herself soften. "I'll think on it," she says. "So long as you think, too."

"About all of this? About my priorities?"

She shakes her head, brushing a lock of hair out of Sev's face. "No," she says softly. "No, about the future, Sev. About the Dark Lord and the war."

"The war will go away."

"Will it?" 

"All wars go away." 

"But you'll have to choose a side." 

"I'll choose yours."

Lily tightens her grip on her portfolio. She thinks about the look on James' face that first night at the sorting, the fear and the elation in equal measure, playing out a sort of medieval battle across his narrow features. He chose his side that night, chose his side and took rank. Sirius did, too. 

"I don't know that you will," she says. "Bye, Sev." 

The walk home is lonely. As the sun sets over their small town, orange sunlight bursting over the rooftops, Lily wonders how many friends she'll lose in this mess. She's twelve and she's staring death in the face, she knows. That seems almost normal now. 

The next day, a note flutters up to her window on a sudden breeze. 'I'm sorry,' Severus has written on it, in his dense, spidery handwriting. 'About the war. About everything. I promise I'm going to keep you safe, though.' 

Lily tucks it into the bottom of her trunk. Then, she goes back to researching. 

* * *

The summer drags its feet towards the end. Petunia spends more time at home, rushing through the summer homework she's been putting off all this time. Every time Lily enters the room, she huffs and glares and leaves. It's exhausting. 

Lily doesn't cry to her parents, though. She feels almost as if she has nothing to cry about, nothing important, not compared to some of the cases she's researching, some of the legislation. Abuse in magical families has to constitute permanent, incapacitating damage. There has only been one ministry-instigated child abuse case that has been won against a pair of magical parents in the past fifty years, and the child in that instance had died. Neither parent went to Azkaban. Mental illness and trauma don't count as damage, either. 

The day Lily finds that out, she starts to feel like most of her worries aren't particularly worthwhile, not compared to what some people go through. Not compared to the worlds they grew up in. 

Severus spends every moment with her that he can. He avoids his father and his father avoids him. He says it's fine. Lily doubts it, but she thinks if she starts to juggle another worry she'll just drop them all and everything will fall to pieces, so she says nothing. They go to Diagon Alley together once, a week before the start of the new term. There, they run into Peter Pettigrew. 

He really is tiny, standing next to his tall mother outside the potions supplies store. His round face lights up when he sees Lily, and he hugs her tightly. She grips him back, glad to see another Gryffindor, not even conscious enough to scold herself for the stupid house allegiance mentality. 

"It's really good to see you, Peter," she tells him sincerely, as she pulls away. "How are you doing? How was your summer?" 

"It's good." Peter grins at her. "It's great, actually; I needed the break. I've had Remus over a few times, too." 

"Tell him I said hello!" 

"Of course." Peter's face falls and he lowers his voice. "I've sent letters to Sirius and James, but my owls keep coming back unopened." 

Lily winces. She grabs Peter's sweaty hand and squeezes it, hoping nobody can see it through the thick crowds. "I've got a plan," she promises. "Only a week, and then we'll see them. I'm sure they're fine." 

"Yeah." Peter smiles, shaky and fake. "Yeah, I'm sure." 

(Neither of them is sure. Neither of them is good at lying, either.) 

Severus sweeps around Lily's other side like a shadow. Lily drops Peter's hand. 

"I have to go," she tells him. "Take care of yourself -- I'll see you soon!" 

"Yeah!" he calls after her in a small voice, already swallowed by the crowd. Lily follows Severus to Gringotts and stands sentinel at his side as he takes out more wizarding money than she'll see in her life.

“Didn’t know you were friends with that lump,” Severus tells her, on the train back to the midlands. 

Lily scowls at the floor. “You shouldn’t call him that.” 

Severus shrugs. His grip on the handrail tightens, knuckles whitening. In muggle clothing and bruised white sneakers, he looks so much softer than he does at Hogwarts, clad in green and silver, dark bags under his eyes. “He’s a Gryffindor.” 

“He’s my friend.” 

Sev meets her eyes. Something about his look seems to say,  _ I don’t think you’ve got very good taste in friends.  _

* * *

Lily’s parents hug her tightly at the entrance to the platform. She soaks up their comfort one more time, then pulls away. “I’m fine!” she tells them. “You act like I’m going to die or something. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Of course.” Her mother smiles down at her with watery eyes. “I’m so proud of you.” 

_ Be proud of Petunia, _ Lily wants to tell her.  _ Don’t be proud of me. I might not even be here in a few years. The world past that barrier might take me from you. _

She says nothing of the sort. There’s no point. 

On Platform 9¾, steam makes the world blurry and nearsighted. Lily fumbles through the crowds, dragging her trunk behind her. A man in bright purple flower power robes winks at her as she passes. An old woman with black clothing and a pendant on a thick chain around her neck scowls, leering out from the gloom. 

A ravenclaw sixth year helps her lug her trunk onto the platform. Lily thanks her, then starts searching. Soon enough, she finds Remus. 

“Hello, you,” Lily tells him, as she drags her trunk into his compartment, shoving it under one of the chairs. “Good summer?” 

Remus looks up at her, slightly startled, from where he had been staring out over the platform. He’s pale and drawn as ever, and his hair is in need of a cut, curling around his ears. There’s a new scar on his face, too, a gnarly gash through his right eye. Apart from that, however, he looks quite healthy. 

“Oh,” he says absently. “Yeah, I’ve been fine. Fine enough, I guess. It was pretty boring, if I’m honest.” 

“Same,” Lily says modestly. She shuffles into the seat opposite him and starts peering out through the crowds, too. 

For a while, neither of them speaks. 

“Weird, isn’t it?” Lily murmurs. “Feels like deja vu.”

“The worry, you mean?” 

“Something like that. It feels like it did last time.” 

Remus nods. He smiles at her. “They’re lucky to have you.” He coughs. “We all are. As a friend. I mean.” 

“Right.” Lily tries to muster a smile, but it falls flat on her lips.

“How’s Snape?” 

“Sev? Oh, he’s-” Lily doesn’t really know which adjective to garnish that with. Boring? Fine? A liar? “He’s alright. I think he’s on the train already, with the Slytherins.” 

“You knew him before, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah. We grew up in the same neighbourhood. I don’t think the Slytherins he hangs out with know he’s a halfblood, though.” 

“Well, I won’t tell his secret.” 

“Thank you.” 

“How did you meet Sirius and James?” 

They make small talk for a little while. Peter joins them shortly, Lily helping him with his heavy trunk, and he greets Remus delightedly, seemingly back in his element already. 

“I missed it here,” he says. “Summer was too long. Have you seen them yet?”

“Not yet,” Remus says, as Peter sits beside him, leaning back so both of them can see the platform. “Soon, I hope.” 

Anxious silence falls over them all. Lily fiddles with her sleeve and considers the possibility of going out to find them herself. 

Then, a dark, wiry figure emerges from the thick, white steam. Sirius has grown a lot, even taller than he was the last time Lily saw him, and he carries his trunk onto the train alone, back straight, face very severe under the platform’s harsh lighting. He’s wearing a long, dark coat that swallows him like a void. He looks too old for his years. 

Remus inhales sharply. He stands up and rushes off to help. A few moments later, he and Sirius stumble in, carrying Sirius’ trunk between them. 

Sirius grins wolfishly at Lily and Peter. “Missed me?” 

Some undefined emotion crashes over Lily, strong enough that she can’t parse it. Grief, maybe, though it tastes more like anger. 

“You wish,” she says, simply. When Sirius sits down beside her, she grabs his hand and squeezes it. 

He’s lost weight. Under the dark coat, which he quickly shucks off in disgust, he’s all bones. His sharp cheekbones and gaunt jawline poke out like knives. 

For a moment, once he’s settled, they all sit in awkward silence. Lily chews on her bottom lip. Remus stares at Sirius with a hungry sort of sadness in his face. Peter shuffles his feet against the linoleum floor. 

“Did somebody die?” Sirius asks, looking between all of them with a raised eyebrow. His tone clearly states,  _ I’m fine. Don’t say a word.  _

“We’re talking about this later,” Lily mutters to him. Then, louder, “Have you seen James?” 

“No, not yet.” Sirius sweeps his curly, overlong hair out of his face with a spindly hand. He squints out over the platform like a general at war. When Lily saw him last he had the same look on his face. Like a commander learning to cut his losses. 

God, he’s pale. Pale like he’s swallowed the moon. Lily finds herself staring a little too long. 

“There he is,” Sirius says, a grin splitting his face. He stands back up and they all pretend they don’t see how he sways. The train might as well be a ship. He steadies himself against Lily. “I’ll go get him.” 

Sure enough, James is cutting through the crowd. His head is down, eyes glued to the floor in front of him. He shuffles up to the train alone, parents too far back through the steam to see. By the time he reaches the carriage entrance, Sirius is there, hauling his trunk up onto the steps. Lily watches them meet eyes for an electric moment. Their hands brush on the trunk handle. All the oxygen in the world seems to leave the air. 

Then, they vanish inside. It’s just in time, too, as the train jolts a moment later and then starts to shudder, and a second after that, the platform begins to move, lurching under them as the train starts to pull away. 

Sirius and James tumble in together. They look whole, now that the other is there. Like something missing has snapped back into place. Entranced by one another. Remus coughs into his hand. Peter looks away. Lily doesn’t. 

“Hi,” James tells them all, voice husky. He coughs, a raspy sound. He, like Sirius, is paler and thinner than before. “Lily, you too?” 

“Sev’s with the other Slytherins.” Lily hopes that comes out as neutrally as she intends it to. She stands up. “Come here.” 

James accepts the hug easily. He likes them more than Sirius does, who always tenses up like a spring when you touch him. His arms find their way around Lily’s waist like they never left. He smells like woodfire and trauma. 

Too soon, Lily pulls away. James collapses down into the seat beside Sirius, and Lily sits back down next to the window. The platform has long-since vanished, and for a moment, they chug through a dark tunnel -- and then the world opens up around them all, bright and airy, as London begins to slide away. 

James seems to take a moment to gather his breath. He slips his hand into Sirius’. Then he looks up, smiling weakly. Perhaps it’s meant to be strong. Perhaps it’s meant to be convincing. But none of them are convinced. 

“So,” he says, as casually as he might ask about the weather. “How was everyone’s summer?” 

* * *

One of the nastier new curse scars stretches down over James’ hand, down his wrist and stretching out over his fingers. It’s raw, angry red. Lily notices it for the first time a week after they return, in their first nightly escapade to the restricted section of the new term. 

On impulse, she reaches out to touch it. James flinches hard and almost knocks Sirius over into a stack of newspapers. 

“Sorry!” she whispers frantically. “Sorry, I just- I just noticed it. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” James replies, shaken. He tucks his hand into his sleeve. When he catches Lily staring, he lowers his voice and breathes, “It was my dad.” 

Sirius jabs him lightly in the ribs. Too lightly. Sirius isn’t gentle with anyone, doesn’t seem to have the capacity to be, but he’s softer to James. “I heard that.” 

“Not like yours is much better.” 

A light shrug. Sirius’ pronounced collarbones flex out against his shirt and Lily considers summoning a house elf to bring food, the time be damned. 

Unfortunately, she has far more important things to do. 

“Come on,” she whispers, leading them by wandlight to the back of the restricted section. “Sit.” 

James and Sirius obey. Their wrists find one another, like magnetised things often do. 

Lily clears her throat. Out of her bag, she pulls her portfolio, crossing her legs and laying it out on the floor between them. Then, she sits back. 

“Read,” she instructs. 

James and Sirius exchange glances. Then, they put their heads together and start reading. 

It must be more than an hour later when they get to the end of the huge file, and even at that, they’ve only been skimming. Sirius looks up first. He has a long, silent conversation with Lily in that look. Then he glances away. 

James looks up next, closing the portfolio gently. “You didn’t have to-”

Lily raises a hand. “Yes, I did,” she says. Then, like she’s imagined a thousand times, “There’s a war coming.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius says, like war is second nature. 

“And if I’m going to survive this war, being what I am.” Lily swallows, trying to work the lump out of her throat. “If I’m going to survive it, I need- I need people I can trust. And I can’t let those people die in shitty abusive pureblood houses before they’re even teens yet. I  _ can’t. _ ” 

That’s not all that it is, and all of them know it. Sirius opens his mouth, maybe to say that he sees through her bullshit, maybe to protest that his house isn’t  _ really _ abusive, then seems to give up on the idea before verbalising it. 

“Okay,” he says eventually. “You’re getting James out first.” 

James whips his head around. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No!” 

“Shush!” Lily gestures frantically. It’s 2AM and Slughorn only passed through half an hour ago. 

“Sorry,” James whispers, face set into a harsh scowl. He glares Sirius down. “Don’t fucking say that. We’re not doing that. No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

Lily rubs at her forehead to stave off a growing headache. “Can you two stop being self-sacrificing and noble and just listen to me?” 

“Sure,” Sirius says, a deep crease between his brows. “What’s our plan to get him out?” 

“Our plan includes both of you getting out.” Lily takes a deep breath. “And it’s gonna take a while. A few years, maybe. This is tricky stuff -- especially for me, if anybody knows I’m involved they’ll kill me -- and we’ll have to time it right-” 

“Anything,” Sirius says. Desperation crackles in his throat. “Anything.” 

Lily starts to outline her basic plan. It’s an intricate web of House politics and family lineage rights, and the legislation is foggy at best. 

“We have to wait until at least next autumn,” she explains, “Because they only elect a new head of the MLE department then, and I’m banking on this guy.” She turns to the page listing the prospective candidates. “Phineas Elderberry. He’s progressive, and he’s a pureblood so he’s got a chance of making it past the Dark wall at the Wizengamot-”

“He’s not from a well-known family,” Sirius interjects.

“You think too small.” Lily circles his name in black ink. “He’s French. His family stayed neutral in the war with Grindelwald, but they’re wealthy. He’s no blood purist, but he’s done nothing so outrageously leftist as to label him a blood traitor, and he’s a white northern European, so his family’s nationality shouldn’t hold him back too much, especially considering he’s a dual citizen without a contentious immigration status. He’s a favourite of the minister. I think he’s got a chance.” She looks up at Sirius meaningfully. “And he’s got a ten year-old son.” 

Sirius sits back. He eyes Lily up and down. He’s caught on already, Lily knows in that moment. 

“Smart,” he says simply. “Very smart.” 

“I’ve been known to be smart.” Lily lets herself smile. She looks at James, and he’s smiling too.

* * *

Sirius corners her before breakfast the following morning, dragging her into a supply closet in Gryffindor tower. 

“Bit cramped,” Lily tries to joke, as his warm breath fans across her face. 

He frowns down at her. “Cut the bullshit.” 

“Right.” She sighs. “You know the part of the plan I didn’t mention, don’t you?” 

“That one of us’ll have to get honorably disowned for it to work? Yeah, I figured that much out.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ face doesn’t change. There’s stone-cold resignation in his eyes now. “I just wanted you to know that it’s going to be me that gets disowned. Not him. Okay?” 

Lily bites her lip. “Sirius…” 

“Yeah?” 

“Not to say I don’t think you’re as strong as him...” She hesitates. “You’re stronger, even, maybe. But I think you should talk to him about it first.” 

“You know what he’ll do. He’ll go play the hero and get himself disowned next week if he thinks it’ll keep me safe.” 

Lily sighs. “You’re right, but you don’t have to say it.” 

“Too bad. I am.” Sirius grabs her by the shoulders. He rarely instigates physical touch, but his warm hands burn through her shirt and give her shivers. “Lily, I mean it. I don’t care how long the process is. I don’t care if you end up hating me by the end of this. We’re doing this for him, okay?” 

Lily hesitates. “Sirius…”

“I’m not arguing with you about this,” he snaps. “You haven’t seen the nightmares, you haven’t seen the scars. One of these days he’s gonna fucking shatter.” 

“And you aren’t?” 

Sirius shakes his head. “Takes more than that to kill me.”

“Maybe you should have more faith in him.” 

“Sleep in that dorm for one night and then tell me that.”

Lily tries to find the right words. “Sirius, I don’t know why I have to say this, but we care about you. I care about you. I don’t want you to suffer.” 

“Which is a lovely sentiment, but I don’t want to wake up and find he’s offed himself, he’s all I have,” Sirius snaps. “So we’re getting him out with as little fuss as possible, okay?”

Lily flinches at the sharpness of his voice. “Don’t get angry at me,” she snaps right back. “I’m trying to help you.” 

“And a fat lot of good it’ll do if they kill him before you can!”

“He’s an only son! They won’t kill him-”

“Stop fighting me on this,” Sirius growls. For the first time, in the light from the crack in the door, he looks like his father. “We’re doing this for him. Okay?” 

Lily wraps her arms around herself. “Fine. Fine.” Then, she hesitates, staring down Sirius’ tense, sharp-edged frame. “Can I hug you? Please?” 

Sirius scowls. “No.” He swings the door open and stalks off. 

* * *

“It’s bad,” Remus tells Lily, when she hunts him down to ask. “The both of them, they won’t-” His face creases with worry. “They won’t talk to me. About the summer, I mean. Sirius snuck off to the hospital wing the other day to steal medication. I don’t know which of them it was for. It’s… it’s bad.”

“Did he get caught?” 

“Almost.” 

Lily curses under her breath. She’s not sure who it’s aimed at. Outside the window of the owlery, wind rushes through the spires below. Hogwarts is still and sedate in the early afternoon light, but beyond it, the looming threat of war only seems to grow. 

“I’m helping them,” Lily tells Remus, when she looks back to him and he’s got this awful frown on his face. “To get out, I mean. I’m going to help them leave if it’s the last thing I do. Okay?” 

Remus nods. He doesn’t look like he believes her, but if there’s one thing Lily’s had to learn since she got here, it’s that you have to be a very good liar to make it among magical folk. She’s determined to get better at it. 

“Which of them told you?” Remus asks quietly. He gestures to his face, like the scarred skin there tells the whole story. “Y’know. About me.” 

Lily shakes her head. “I figured it out on my own.” She reaches over to squeeze Remus’ arm. “I don’t see you any differently for it, Remus, I really don’t.” 

“Right.” 

“I mean it.” 

Remus smiles. He doesn't seem to believe her then, either. 

* * *

Somebody kills Lily’s pet frog. 

She comes back to Gryffindor Tower one evening in early October to find it strung up over the portrait of the Fat Lady, innards all dangling out. It was only two years old. Somebody’s written  _ MUDBLOOD _ on the wall in dark lettering. 

“Oh,” James breathes from beside her. “Lily-” 

Very gently, Lily reaches up to pull the frog down, untangling its mangled limbs from the wire strangling it. She doesn’t dare to draw breath. There’s a note tied to one of the knots of wire:  _ steal your frog like you stole your wand? _

There are a few third years huddled around, staring and whispering. A prefect tries and fails to break up the stunned little gathering. 

The frog’s been dead for a few hours. It’s very cold. 

Lily looks up at the Fat Lady. Her vision blues sideways. “Who did this?” she asks, voice cracking. 

The Fat Lady glances around, a nervous sort of distaste on her face. Then, she looks back at Lily. “I didn’t see anybody, dear,” she says gently. “I’m sorry about your frog.” 

“Liar,” Lily says. Then, she shouts it. “Liar!” 

“Lily-” James tugs on her wrist. “Lily, please-” 

But Lily breaks out through the crowd and runs full-pelt down the hallway. She sprints past a cluster of firsties and up a flight of stairs that starts to move under her as she steps on. Behind her, James lets out a faint, alarmed shout. 

Lily doesn’t stop running until she reaches the astronomy tower, which is empty at this hour. She shuffles in between two huge metal telescopes that jut out of the wall, into a breezy alcove looking out over the school where nobody can see her, and she lays her frog down on the ground beside her and sobs. 

It takes a while for James to find her -- longer than a while, in fact, because it’s starting to get dark by the time he squeezes in beside her, shuffling his arm into hers and looping them together like a paper chain from back home. 

“I’m really sorry,” James murmurs. 

Lily shoves him off. “Don’t be.” 

“I am. It- it sucks.” James hesitates. “What was his name? We should bury him.”

“Why do you care?” Lily bites. She buries her face in her arms. “It’s people like you that killed him. It’s this whole- this whole  _ stupid _ system. Blood and inheritance and surnames and marriage and heirs. And I don’t have a single part of it in me. And that’s why they hate me.” She wipes her face and looks up. “I worry that you hate me sometimes too, James, I really do. You and Sirius.” 

“I-” James has gone pale. He looks faintly ill. “Lily, I don’t hate-”

“But they must have told you that you should. A part of you must have believed it.” 

James hesitates. “I try not to let it change how I feel.”

“But you still see it when you look at me. Don’t you?” Lily sniffles into her sleeve. “Grubby little muggle, stealing resources. Stealing valour. No class, no wizarding values, nothing. I’ve read the papers. I know what the Potters think of people like me.” 

James doesn’t speak for a while. Eventually, he shuffles back over to sit by her again. “They hate me, too. If that means anything.” 

Begrudgingly, Lily takes his hand again. She stares out into the misty evening. “I don’t mean to be angry.” 

“I know. It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.” 

“It is,” James says. He clears his throat. “It wasn’t easy for me then. Doesn’t mean it isn’t easier for me now. Compared to how they talk to you.” 

Lily finds her voice after a moment. She can’t drag her eyes away from the sight of it, their hands knotted together on her knee. James’ pale and scarred, hers tan and small. “You’ll have to choose a side.” 

James squeezes, fierce and tight. “I know. Wars don’t leave, y’know. The last one never really ended, either. Not when you hear how my family talks about Grindelwald.”

“Who are you gonna fight for?” 

“I dunno.” James hugs his knees with his free arm. He looks painfully wistful. “The good guys, I suppose.”

\--

The four Gryffindor boys and Lily take to travelling everywhere together after that. They guard her seat in classes and, in return, she helps Sirius stave off the worst of the Slytherins. 

“You could just hext them, y’know,” she tells him one time, after he gets detention for knocking a fourth year’s lights out. 

Sirius flexes his bruised fist. Outlined against the fire in the common room, he’s his own little blaze. “I know. Guess I’m better at doing it this way.” 

“Well, next time, let me handle it.” 

He looks like he wants to argue. Instead, he just rolls his eyes. “Sure. I’ll do that.” 

“You’d better,” Remus sighs, as he sits down next to Sirius with a roll of gauze. “I’m not gonna try to heal it with magic. We’re doing this the old-fashioned way, okay?” 

“I bet you could charm it better, Remus, you’re really good,” Peter puts in, from Lily’s other side. 

Remus grins crookedly. “I think the healing process might teach Sirius a lesson.” 

“Oh, shove off,” Sirius snorts. “I’ll punch you next, you nutter.” 

“Don’t think my face could get much more broken than it is, but you could try.” 

“Nobody’s going to be punching anybody,” James puts in. He’s sitting on the floor at Lily’s feet, head resting on Sirius’ knee. He only ever relaxes like this when they’re all together. His eyes are closed and his face is upturned, the firelight licking along the underside of his jaw. “We don’t solve our problems with violence, Sirius, don’t you know?” 

“I was unaware.” 

“Pain never taught anybody a lesson.” 

Sirius catches James’ eye. They both laugh, a private sort of sound. Remus coughs into the crook of his elbow and Peter keeps pretending to read over his charms notes. 

* * *

“You’ve been spending more time with them lately,” Severus comments. Both he and Lily have come home this Christmas, mostly to escape the stifling discomfort that rules the castle. The Dark Lord’s power grows by the day. Half of the student body seem terrified, and the other half seem eager. 

Lily shrugs. She rests her elbows on the railing of the park fence, watching Sev clamber up to stand on one of the swings, gripping the chains on either side of him. It’s early evening, and nobody’s out. Maybe the muggles can tell something’s wrong, too. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Since I can’t spend time with you.” 

That seems to sting Sev a little. “I’ve been trying to get the other boys to lay off a little. If you started sitting with us in the Great Hall they would see how cool you are. They’d like you. Especially since you’re so good at potions.” 

“Maybe,” Lily nods. “Maybe they would.” She thinks for a few moments. “Did you think about what I said?” 

“About choosing sides?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sort of. My answer’s the same.” Severus jumps down from the swing, shuffling over to stand in front of her. “I’d stay on your side, Lily. It’d just be us. I’d be able to keep us safe if we stayed neutral.” 

Lily lets out a bitter chuckle. “I don’t know that I have that option.” 

“We could leave the country. Travel the world. Learn about magic in other places.” 

“With who’s money?” 

“Mine.” 

“I don’t want to be a housewife, Severus.” 

“That’s not-” He frowns. “That’s not what I said.” 

“You want me to rely on you.” 

“It’s not- it’s not like that. Not exactly. I don’t want you to rely on me.” He grabs her hand. “We could rely on each other. I’ve got money. You’ve got…” 

“I’ve got what?” Lily stares. “What, Sev?” 

He swallows. “I don’t know what it is. But we’re better together. Best when we work as a team.” 

Lily pulls her hand away. She’s starting to think that every wizard with magical heritage is the same. “You like who you are better when you’re with me, don’t you?”

“It’s not-”

“I wonder whether it’s about me at all.” 

Severus stares at her. It’s like watching a heart break in real time, right before her eyes. His eyes get glossy and he looks away. 

“You’re my only friend,” he whispers. 

“I know.” Lily reaches out to wipe his face with her sleeve. “But if you want us to stay friends, Sev, you have to choose where your allegiances lie. And you have to choose soon.” She steps back from the fence. “The war has started already.” 

“We’re kids.” 

“And half of the kids you care about impressing so much are gonna grow up into supremacists who would kill somebody like me in a heartbeat.” 

Severus flinches like he’s been slapped. “You’re not like other muggleborns,” he says, and reaches out to brush her hair back from her shoulder, half leaning over the fence now. “They would see that in you.” 

A cold well of disappointment lurches open in Lily’s stomach. “Bye, Sev,” she says, and she turns around to make her way home. 

* * *

In their first potions class back after break, Severus sits next to Lily before the boys can arrive. 

“Severus,” Lily starts. 

He shakes his head. “I’m doing this,” he says simply.

A group of green-and-silver boys snicker in the back. Lily stiffens but doesn’t turn around. 

A minute later, Sirius and James turn up, Peter and Remus just after them. Sirius sits merrily on Severus’ other side. 

“You got something to say to Lily?” he asks Severus, not taking any care to lower his voice. “You can say it to us.” 

“Sirius,” Lily hisses. “Just leave it.” 

“He’s one of them.” Sirius’ dark eyes look especially black today. 

James sits on her other side. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Lily straightens her posture and forces a smile. “Can we just get this lesson over with?” 

James eyes her dubiously. He doesn’t trust Severus either, doesn’t trust him for a heartbeat. 

Remus and Peter sit in the row in front of them, shooting looks over their shoulders every few seconds. Slughorn shows up late and then the lesson stutters into motion. Today, they’ll be learning how to brew an anti-inflammatory base, which can be used to make various other medical potions. It’s simple and easy. Lily’s read over the recipe a hundred times. She can do this. 

Evidently, with the circumstances of today, she cannot, in fact, do this. She messes up her base three times and ends up starting a small fire when she adds the powdered salamander bones at the wrong moment. 

She’s mostly distracted, she figures, by Severus’ constant attempts to make conversation -- or maybe it’s Sirius’ jabs at the Slytherin in their midst, the sharp digs he takes at Severus’ hair, posture, pimples. Or maybe it’s the laughter in the back row that rises with every mistake Lily makes until it’s all she can hear, or the idea that somebody in this class was probably the one that killed her frog, or maybe it’s James’ constant worried glances, or Slughorn’s boisterous amusement at her failures. 

Yeah. It could be any of those things. 

Eventually, class finally ends. Face burning, Lily scoops up her things and practically bolts, making it out of the door before anybody else and heading straight up to the girls’ dorm of Gryffindor Tower. 

One of Severus’ notes follows her to her bed and flutters down to rest on her pillow.  _ Sorry, _ it reads. Then, in slightly denser, smaller hand,  _ Black’s a menace. Why do you spend time with him? _

A few hours pass. By the time Lily builds up the courage to go down to the common room, it’s dark outside. 

“I just think he should keep his big ugly nose out of her business,” Sirius is saying, when Lily finally ventures down. He paces in front of the fire. “I mean, honestly. He avoids her for months, lets his housemates kill her pet and mock her and bully her, and now he wants to be friends?” 

“She can take care of herself,” James interjects from the large, red sofa, where he’s curled himself into something resembling a pretzel.

“I know that!” Sirius throws his hands in the air in frustration. “But I take care of you, don’t I?” 

“That’s different. She doesn’t want your pity.” 

“If I thought she was safe, I wouldn’t do anything-” 

Lily clears her throat from the stairs. “Hi.” 

Sirius whirls around, startling so hard that it makes James jump, too. The both of them stare at her with twin wide eyes, mirrors of one another even now. 

“Hi,” Lily repeats again, this time with a little more strength behind the word. “Is it just us down here?” 

Sirius nods. He sinks down onto the couch beside James, balling up into an angry knot of pureblood frustration. “Yeah, we told Peter and Remus to go to sleep.” 

“Good. We need to have this conversation alone.” Lily crosses the room to stand in front of the boys. First, she addresses James. “James, I’m not angry with you. You don’t need to… please don’t be nervous.” 

James coughs, unfolding himself slightly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Lily rounds on Sirius. “You.” 

“Me,” Sirius says, half spiteful, half tired. 

“What gave you the right to talk to my friend like that?” 

“Your  _ friend _ hangs out with the people who would hurt us given a chance. Hurt you, too.” Sirius surges back to his feet and paces across the room, then back again. “You know who some of his friends are? Rodolphus Lestrange’s nephew. Two of the Potter cousins, from a marriage off to some old traditionalist chapter of the Malfoy house.” Sirius squares his jaw. “A cousin of mine, too, who stood by in the summer and watched them-” 

“I don’t care about your baggage,” Lily shouts. “He’s been my friend a lot longer than you’ve been, and he’s not even a pureblood -- he grew up in a muggle house, in a muggle town. He’s far more like me than you’ll ever be, Sirius Black.” 

“He’d kill you if he thought it’d make them laugh!” 

“At least he cares about me for more than the fact that I’m useful to him!”

“One of these days, he’ll drop the act-” 

Lily takes a sharp step forwards. Sirius takes two. They end up nose to nose. 

“I don’t need your protection,” Lily spits. “You’ve underestimated me over and over since we met. It gives you a kick, doesn’t it? Is it because I’m a girl, or because my parents are muggles? Is it both? I see it in your face-” 

“You need to take your inferiority complex and bugger off-” 

“Stop!” James yells from the couch, and then he barrels between the two of them, shoving them apart. “Stop,” he says again, frantic and broken. “Stop it. Both of you. Stop.” 

Sirius scowls over the top of his head at Lily. She glares right back. 

James takes a deep breath. “Lily, Sirius doesn’t think he’s better than you. Neither of us does. But if anything we do or say or think hurts you, you need to tell us.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do now-” 

James holds up a hand, face gone horrible hurt. He turns to Sirius. “I know. Sirius, please just- just let her be friends with him? You can’t control who she hangs out with.” 

Sirius flares his nostrils. He looks every ounce the nobleman’s son. “He’s a fucking mini death eater-” 

“Maybe he is. Doesn’t matter. It’s her mistake to make. Stop thinking you know better than her.” 

“And what if I do?!” 

“Say that again,” Lily snaps, hand on her wand.

“If we take wands out,” James warns, “I’m going to- I’ll-” 

He seems to deflate. 

“Can we please just stop fighting,” he pleads, like a boat with all the wind gone from its sales. 

Sirius moves towards him and James steps away, eyes glued to the floor. There’s a patch of discolouration on the side of his neck that Lily hadn’t noticed before. An old, old scar. 

Eventually, James looks up again. He seems to compose himself. “Lily, if you want to be friends with him, we won’t stop you. And Sirius and I will do our best to be less…” 

“Domineering?” Lily offers. 

“That.” James swallows visibly. “And if we ever act like we know better than you, tell us. We’ll stop, and we’ll say sorry, and it’ll be done and over with. We’ll try to get better. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Lily says, an argument dying in her throat. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry, too.” James looks at Sirius expectantly. 

Sirius tightens his jaw. It seems to take every ounce of his strength to say, “I’m sorry.” 

Lily swallows her pride. “I didn’t mean it. When I said I don’t care about your baggage. I do care.” 

“I know.” 

“And I’m sorry about this summer.” 

Sirius deflates. “It’s- it’s not fine. Y’know. But it’s fine enough. I’m sorry for… being an asshole to Snape. I won’t do it again.” 

Somehow, Lily doubts that that’s true. “He really is a nice person.”

James, seeming to notice the beginnings of an argument beginning to brew again, hastily grabs Sirius by the arm. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep,” he says. “Before we go to the library tonight. Come with me, Sirius?” It had never occurred to Lily that they sleep in the same bed. 

“Yeah.” Sirius sweeps his hair out of his face and sticks his hand out in front of him. Cautiously, Lily takes it, and they shake. “We’re square.” 

“We’re square,” Lily agrees. “I’ll see you both later.” 

James and Sirius skitter up the boys’ staircase together, murmuring to one another. Lily sits on the sofa and stares into the fireplace, fiddling with Sev’s note in her pocket. 

Something about this whole situation feels distinctly like being the only mouse in a pit of vipers. 

* * *

The months pass quickly, uncomfortably quickly. Spring rolls in stifling and hot. 

_ I don’t know why you trust them, _ Severus notes her, one quiet charms class. 

Lily writes back, sliding the folded parchment across to him,  _ you don’t know them. _

_ They’re purebloods. The type that hates you. _

Across from Lily, James and Sirius’ heads knock together as they bend over to scan a shared textbook. It’s April, and James’ tan has been coming back. Sirius still looks carved out of white marble, brittle and chalky. 

_ worry about your own friends, _ Lily notes back one last time. Then, she gets back to work. 

* * *

“What’re your family like?” James asks one evening, as they study together after dinner a cold April evening. Sirius is in detention for the second time this week. It’s Wednesday. 

Lily shrugs. It’s embarrassing, talking about muggle life. Embarrassing even to think about it. “I wish I’d grown up in a wizarding family, sometimes.”

* * *

Like last year, May comes like a fever. Two more disappearances in a single day. Another Magical Heritage bill comes up for vote in the ministry next week, this one to legally distinguish between verified and unverified pureblood status. Pureblood with a capital P, in the bill itself. muggleborn with an m. 

James catches on to what their plan is -- Sirius’ disowning, the whole great mess of it -- in May, too. He doesn’t talk to either of them for a week, and it breaks Sirius' heart. When he finally does start associating with them again, there’s a distinct distance to how he addresses them. He spends lots of time with Remus. 

“He doesn’t like liars,” Remus offers as an explanation, when Lily asks him about it. “I have to run, I’ve got to get this work done before nightfall… y’know.” 

“Good luck tonight,” Lily calls after him, but he’s already gone. 

* * *

“I worry about them a lot,” Peter confides in Lily one night in June. “Don’t tell them I said that.” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m sure they already know. You worry about lots of stuff, Peter.” 

“I guess.” Peter balls his shoulders up around his ears and looks away. 

Lily wonders about him sometimes. 

* * *

On the train ride back to London, which comes far too soon for Lily’s liking, none of them talk. James sleeps on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius stares out of the window like he wants to kill a god, wants to rip something apart, wants to burn the train down and burn with it. 

Remus makes small talk with Peter. When the station is an hour away, one of Severus’ notes worms its way under the door and flutters up to land on Lily’s shoulder. She opens it under Sirius’ piercing black stare. 

_ Come meet me? The end carriage, compartment on the right.  _

“I’m, uh- I’ll be right back,” Lily mumbles, standing up. Sirius watches her out of the door. 

Severus looks up, grim unhappiness on his face, when she walks into his compartment. The green countryside blurs past beside him. 

“What’s wrong?” Lily slides into the seat opposite him. 

“I think they know.” Severus lowers his voice. “That I’m a halfblood, I mean. They keep mentioning… stuff. About my family. And stuff. I don’t know who told them. Someone.” 

A hot spike of anger rushes up through Lily’s gut. “Sev, I’m… I’m so sorry.” Some selfish, awful part of her wonders whether this’ll make him less ashamed to be seen with her next year. 

Severus shakes his head. When Lily tries to grab his hand, he yanks it away, standing up swiftly. “I don’t-” He stops himself.  _ Blame you? Want to see you? Hate you? Like you? _ “I just wanted to tell you.” 

“I know. We can talk about it if you want…?”

“I don’t want to,” he says resolutely. He clears his throat. “I’ll see you at home.” 

“Bye,” Lily whispers. He’s already gone. 

Back in the boys’ carriage, James has woken up. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a deep crease in his brow now, and he’s shuffled closer to Sirius, hugging his arm. 

Lily sits down beside him, still shell-shocked. She doesn’t know what to say; she wants to get angry and rant and rave, she wants to cry, she wants to say  _ good riddance, maybe if they hate him too, he’ll hate me less. _

She says nothing. London looms on the horizon. James, sat between them, grabs Lily’s arm and hugs it tight, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! again, comments really do make my day <3


	3. Chapter 3

The cruciatus curse really is worse than most people make it out to be. Even the sternest families only use it on their kids in the worst of scenarios, where no other option remains but pain. Exposure for too short a time and it can hit like blunt force trauma, can cause concussions and shock and frayed nerves. Exposure for too long and you risk brain damage. Even death eaters aren’t so careless as to use it unless they have to. 

James is put under the curse once the whole summer. The rest of the time, it’s heating curses, occasionally cutting jinxes. Nothing so bad as to make a big deal of it. Honestly, it’s one of the calmest, most sedate summers he’s ever had. 

It’s just his luck that he gets crucio’d the night before his father drags him out to the Ministry with him. The Shakes are still sitting heavy in his bones as James stumbles into the elevator after him and they descend into the courts. His hands are so jittery, nerves shot to hell, that they shudder and jump at his sides, the buttons along his jacket sleeves tapping in something that almost resembles a rhythm. 

His father reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, but it might as well hurt for all the fear and tension it adds.  _ He’s watching.  _

The elevator judders to a halt. The courts are dark-tiled and dimly lit, the whole floor in dire need of a renovation. The primary courtroom is structured like an auditorium, James notes, as he shuffles through the door and to the observatory seats, which are clustered together against the far wall. He watches his father stalk toward the jury seating on the other side of the hall, unable to drag his eyes away. Even having him in the room with him makes James anxious now, which is pathetic, but it’s not like it’s something he can train himself out of. James grew up thinking that lessons learned are how the world spins. Now, he thinks it’s fear that keeps it turning. 

It's only James in the observatory seats at first. It's not like the Wizengamot's Bring Your Kid To Work day. He's thirteen now, which makes him old enough to start learning the ways of the world, according to his dad. Perhaps none of the others feel the same way about their own kids. 

James scans the line of sharp, pale faces. Each of the Wizengamot looks carved from stone, all of them so inbred with each other that they might as well be made from from the same plaster base, noses and jaws all the same shape. He considers that it's likely none of them are particularly kind to their kids. 

His father greets a few of them, smiling sedately. Some send glances James' way. James tucks his hands into his pockets and stares furiously at the ground. Maybe if he can't see them, they can't see him. 

The world sort of blurs and time goes fuzzy. James has never been particularly good with time. It slips through his fingers like time, like he's always running out of it. Sirius told him once that he's always been sure he'll die before he turns eighteen. James thought, privately, that eighteen sounds a little generous. 

Sirius. They haven't been able to owl at all this summer. It feels like a wound gone necrotic. 

Somebody sits down in the chair beside James. James jumps so hard he almost falls out of his seat. It's a tall man, balding in the front, with a broad, kind face. He looks fifty, maybe a little older. 

"Sorry to have scared you!" he laughs jovially, as James scrambles back into his seat. His voice is faintly accented.

"It's fine," James mutters, hoping his father didn't see that. He tucks his trembling hands, riddled with the Shakes, into his pockets again. "Sorry." 

"It's nothing to worry about," the stranger reassures. He folds his arms and looks serenely out over the courtroom. "I'm just here to sit in on the session. Are you pursuing a career in magical law?" 

James chews on the inside of his cheek. In the end, he decides to be honest. "No, I'm here with my dad. He's on the Wizengamot." 

"I see." The stranger looks sidelong at James. "You'd be Master Potter, then, I presume?" 

The idea that he looks like his father makes James want to throw up. "Yeah," he croaks. 

"I see." 

Awkward silence reigns. From across the room, James' father keeps shooting him small, curious looks. Nothing openly contemptuous. James read in a book last year that the ancient Romans considered a loving family to be a status symbol, a sign of pride. He wonders whether his father feels the same way, whether he wants to appear like a loving parent too. 

The stranger sighs. Then, he straightens up. "Ah, I apologise, Master Potter- I'm Phineas Elderberry. It's good to meet you, chap." 

James stops and stares. The face comes into focus and all at once, he recognises the man. He's significantly redder and broader in person than in Lily's photo, but his kind eyes are the same. 

"Oh, wow," James says. Before he can stop himself, he adds, "You're running this autumn, aren't you? For head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." He stumbles over his words a little. Phineas pretends not to have noticed.

"Surprised you recognise me," the man laughs. "Isn't politics boring to you younger folk?" 

"I guess. I keep up with it, though," James mutters, burying his hands deeper into his pockets. The chattering has started to creep up his spine to his shoulders. 

"Good man, good man." Phineas sits back in his seat, sighing. "Do I have a supporter in you, then?" 

"Of course," James says immediately. "I think some of your, uh, stances are, uh, super progressive. Y'know." 

"I try," Phineas says modestly. "Between you and I, I'm a little worried about the election. Being a foreigner, and all." 

"Who did you support in the last war?" James asks. 

Phineas stares at him, then laughs nervously. "My family stayed rather neutral, I'd like to think. Of course, perspectives change over time, and- and well, what's acceptable changes too, I think-" 

"You'll be fine," James assures him. "They'll like you." 

Phineas looks half reassured by that. "Thank you, Master Potter." 

"Please, just James." 

"Right. James." 

On the courtroom floor, the defendant is dragged out from a doorway under the jury seating in chains. She's young, maybe twenty-five, with a narrow, feline face and hunched shoulders. Her hair is matted with sweat. 

They shove her into the central chair, and chains wind up around her wrists to keep her there. She stares up at the jury and the judge. James can't see her face, but he imagines she's scowling, hard-jawed, in that way Sirius does sometimes. Like the whole world has failed her, and that's why she's in that seat. 

The head of the Wizengamot clears his throat. He's a tall, silver-haired man James has never seen before. Dumbledore stepped down last year, and nobody knows when he'll be back. 

"We are here today to witness the trial of Miss Agnes Day, graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and current cursebreaker under the employment of the Ministry of Magic, on charges of theft of a fellow witch's wand," the man drones. 

Dread, cold like ice, slides down into James' stomach. 

"I really do feel sorry for some muggleborn folk," Phineas murmurs from beside him. "Their reputation really is tarnished by the worst of their lot, isn't it? It's a shame there are so many bad apples." 

James feels mildly sick. As the details of the case are read out, he tries not to look at Agnes, tries not to look at anybody. Tries to look past this courtroom and into some reality where this isn't happening. 

Then, he remembers Lily's face as she argued with Sirius last January. Grimly, James forces himself to watch. For her, if for nobody else. 

* * *

In the elevator ride back up to the main hall, Phineas stands beside James, chatting amicably to his father. Anges Day has had her wand snapped, and when James closes his eyes, he can still see the rage on her face as they broke it in front of her. No Azkaban time. Nobody says it out loud, but James knows it’s because they would rather not put her in a prison for wizards and witches. 

“It was truly enlightening to meet your son,” Phineas tells James’ father. “He’s a bright young mind -- I wouldn’t be surprised if you found that he, too, enters politics someday. Is he your only son?” 

“Yes,” James’ father replies easily. “Yes, our only child, in fact. We do treasure him.” 

James shoots his father a weak smile. Then, he looks over at Phineas. “It was good to meet you too, sir. I hope you win the election.” 

“Thank you, lad.” Phineas winks down at him. “I hope you continue to support my… progressive stances.” 

James swallows his fear. “I think they’re just what the Ministry needs. A move away from traditionalism, I mean. I think it’ll help to keep a lot of people safe.” 

_ (Help me, _ he tries to say with his eyes.  _ Help us.) _

Phineas’ face falls very slightly. He’s a politician through and through, though, so James might have imagined it. 

* * *

On the morning of the start of the new term, James’ mother takes him aside, sitting him down at a small tea table at one of the bay windows overlooking the gardens. The Potter estate is sprawling and green, though at this time of year, the trees have started to yellow. 

She offers the usual lecture -- that if James is found to have been causing unnecessary trouble, there will be consequences, that he really shouldn’t keep associating with that Black boy if he wants to keep his privileges, that she’s got eyes in the castle, people to let her know how James is doing, to keep a watch over him. 

James just nods. He’s not supposed to answer. It’s not a conversation. 

“I really do wonder what’s wrong with you, sometimes,” his mother sighs after she finishes. She stares at James for a moment. He got his eyes from her, dark, flat brown. From the light through the window, her pale skin is almost as translucent as Sirius’. 

James just nods. 

“You insist on making things hard for us. I’ve had friends that have blamed it on teenage rebellion, but I don’t think that’s it.” She grabs James by the chin, hand snapping out like a viper, dragging his face around to look at her. It’s one of the first times she’s touched him since he got home. James feels sick for not wanting her to let him go. 

He nods. 

“No, I think it’s more than just attention-seeking. It’s deeper than that.” His mother turns his chin up slightly. Her nails dig in. “I really do believe, James, that it supplements your ego to act like this. To play the victim. I see how you look at us. Like you’re so hard-done-by.”

James nods again. 

“That sad look on your face, right there.” With all the gentleness of a wolf, she lets go. James keeps his chin up and tries to keep his face blank. “You enjoy it, don’t you? Feeling like the world owes you an apology. Feeling like it’s hurt you. It makes you feel like a victim, and you love that.” 

A nod. 

“I suppose you tell your school friends how  _ bad _ it is, too?” 

James doesn’t nod this time, because that might sound like it, but it’s not a question. 

“That despite all the privilege of the life you live, all the honor of your family, how hard your father and I have worked to keep you taken care of, it’s all been so difficult for you. So painful. How saddening it must be, to live a life so pathologically self-pitying.” 

A nod. 

His mother sighs. “Stand up. Back of your shirt up, don’t dawdle. And straighten your back.” 

* * *

James’ father apparates them onto the platform. He straightens James’ lapels and shakes him slightly, then lets go like he’s been contaminated by something dirty. “Your mother can’t handle the stress of more of this,” he warns. “So keep your head down, you hear me? And if you don’t, we’ll know.” 

“Maybe she’d be less stressed if you didn’t have that.” James lets his eyes flicker down to his father’s forearm. 

A slight pause. “I’m going to give you one chance, James, to apologise for that. Or we’re going to apparate back home.” 

If James was somebody else -- Sirius or Lily, both of them fiercely brave in everything they do, sharp-tongued and biting -- he might have said nothing. 

But he’s James Potter, and above all else, he’s a coward. 

“Sorry,” he says, the words tumbling out one after the other in an awful rush, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” 

His father seems to consider that. “Perhaps a year of homeschooling would do you good.” 

_ “Please. _ Please. Please-” James grabs his arm.

He is promptly shaken off. “Oh, let go of me, boy. Stop being hysterical. The train’s going to leave. I don’t think I can stand the sight of you for a moment longer. Behave yourself.” A sharp crack, and his father’s gone. 

James draws in a deep breath, chest seeming to decompress for the first time in three months. The end of the train he’s standing at is thick with steam, the whole platform obscured by it, and he grabs his trunk and starts dragging it towards the nearest compartment door. 

A hand latches onto his wrist. James startles and whirls around. 

Sirius grins out of the smog at him. “Missed me?” 

“Oh Merlin. Yeah. Hi.” James barely holds himself back. “Are your parents still here?” 

“Yes, across the platform,” Sirius lowers his voice to say. “We’re early, though. The train should still be pretty empty. Come on.” 

They pile onto the train together, into one of the north-facing compartments without a window looking out over the station. NORTHERN LINE, the wall next to them says, but the window cuts it off, so it reads like THERN LI. 

Sirius dumps his trunk on the floor, slamming the sliding door closed behind them. Then, he sighs, turning to look at James. 

“Hi,” he says, and it comes out like an apology, or maybe a prayer. 

James throws himself at him, hurling his arms around him. “Don’t say hi,” he says into Sirius’ shoulder. “It’s been months, don’t just say ‘hi’.” 

“Sorry.” Sirius wraps his arms around him and squeezes so tight that James’ feet leave the floor. “Missed you.” 

“Missed you, too.” James doesn’t loosen his grip. For a while they just stand there, close enough that they could be one person. 

Eventually, Sirius puts James down. “Your back,” he says. “I could feel-” 

“Later. I don’t want to worry them. They’ll be here soon.” 

“Maybe they should be worried,’ Sirius challenges. 

“It wasn’t so bad this summer,” James protests, and he feels like it’s honest even if he doesn’t know that it is. “I promise.” 

Sirius drags him into a hug again. “I don’t believe you,” he whispers. 

“We’re safe now.” 

“That word seems to mean something different everyday.”

“Then we’re together.” 

“Right.”

The compartment door slides open behind them. Sirius lets go. It’s Lily. 

She’s cut her hair.  _ Seriously _ cut her hair. 

“Wow,” James says. “Uh, hi. Lily.” 

“Hi,” she says. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“No,” Sirius says in a tight sort of voice. He audibly swallows. “Liking the hair.” 

“Thanks,” Lily says. She grins at the two of them, wide and gleeful. Her red hair is barely half an inch long all over. “It’s been growing out since I shaved it at the start of the summer. I like it.” 

“Really punk. Super hardcore.” Sirius coughs. “Looks good on you.”

James elbows him in the ribs. Sirius elbows him right back.

* * *

Remus seems to know something’s wrong immediately. After the feast, he approaches James in private, as Sirius and Peter talk to some firsties in the common room. 

“I can help,” he offers. 

James looks up from unpacking his trunk. “What?” 

“You’re injured. I can tell.” 

“Oh,” James shakes his head firmly. “I’m okay, but, uh, thank you, Remus. I’m fine.” 

“Okay.” Remus doesn’t seem much like he believes him. 

“I mean it.” 

“I know.”  _ I just don’t think you’re telling the truth. _

James resists the urge to roll his eyes, because rolling his eyes hasn’t been particularly good for his health in the past, and like Pavlov’s wolf in sheeps’ clothing, he’s gotten good at not being rude even when he wants to be. 

“It wasn’t so bad this summer,” James says absently, as he starts packing away socks into the drawers beside his bed. 

“Mmm,” Remus hums. 

He throws something at James and instinctively, sure that it’s a curse, James dives down to the floor. Pain doesn’t hit. Crouched down between his and Sirius’ bed, James stays perfectly still, not daring to breathe. 

Remus’ hand lands gently on his arm. “I got you this,” he says, sounding slightly embarrassed.  _ He thinks you’re pathetic. _

Tentatively, James looks up. It’s a bar of muggle chocolate, one of those big, flat, expensive ones with nuts and stuff in them. 

“Thanks,” James mutters, pushing himself to his feet. “Sorry. I get stupid about- about stuff.” 

“Right.” 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Remus hesitates. “Can I hug you?” 

“Yes, please,” James whispers. “Yeah.”

Remus gives bad hugs, like he doesn’t know how to do it. But it’s nice. They stay like that for a while, swaying in the middle of the boys’ dorm. The world feels safe again. 

* * *

Try as he might, Sirius can’t spell the gash down James’ spine closed. It’s right down the vertebrae, like something is trying to break out, and it hurts like nothing else, burns like somebody’s slathered salt between the folds of flesh. 

“I think it’s cursed,” Sirius mutters. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t bleed in class,” James says, “I’m fine.” 

_ “Fine, _ ” Sirius says, teeth half gritted. “Fine. Yeah.” 

* * *

Lily looks perfect with her short hair. She’s had a growth spurt over the summer and she towers over him. James spends a long time staring at her in classes, in the library, in the Great Hall, in the common room, in the courtyard, in the restricted section, in the archives. Everywhere he can. 

She’s annoyed by it, but she doesn’t say anything. That’s true friendship, James supposes. If this is what friendship is.

Sirius makes fun of him for it a lot. “You’d swear she’d slipped you a love potion or something.” 

“It’s not like that,” James insists as he wobbles across the greenhouse, laden down with a heavy pot of snapping seeds. “I don’t, like, like her. Not in that way. She just looks…” 

“Looks what?” Sirius’ amusement hasn’t left his face, but it seems to have cooled slightly. 

“I dunno.” James puts the pot down and dusts off his hands. His back smarts with pain. They’re two weeks into the term and it’s not getting any easier to ignore. “Strong, I guess. Like this… strong, cool, punk fairy. Like magic.” 

“You’re sure it’s not a crush?” 

“Piss off.” James shoves Sirius and Sirius shoves him back, in time for the herbology professor to snap at them to get back to their work. 

As the pair of them cross back to their workstation, one of a cluster of Ravenclaws across the room fires off a tripping jinx. It flies between Sirius’ long legs and James dodges it. It shatters a pane of glass behind them and zips off towards the lake. 

Sirius shoots the Ravenclaws the middle finger, teeth gritted so hard they might snap. James doesn’t react. He’s learned it’s best not to react to curses and hexes and cruelty. 

The both of them are thirteen and dying, he realises faintly, as Sirius sits back down, legs folded over the sides of his wooden stool, sweeping his hair back into a loose tie. Sirius is covered in dirt and specks of moss, and he’s got a tension born of fear in his shoulders that clings to him like a curse, and he’s dying. 

* * *

“The election,” James pulls Lily aside to ask, the following night. 

“It looks like it’s going ahead as planned.” Lily bites her lip. “He’s the most moderate choice. If the Dark wall are smart, they’ll vote for him. It’s the most strategic option.” 

“Unless they’ve bought other votes.” 

Lily glances around the common room. Then, she tugs James towards the portrait. It’s not curfew yet, and they sneak into an abandoned classroom nearby. She shuts the door behind her and sits on a desk. James sits beside her. Evening light fades in through the window, casting the dusty air into a silver glow. 

It’s strange to be with her without Sirius. Incomplete, but not in a bad way. 

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Lily loops her arm through his, swinging her legs. Her short hair brushes his shoulder. “The Dark families buying votes, I mean. The only candidate on the far, far right is practically a death eater himself. A puppet for them, if they can get him. He’ll buy them time. That’s what they need right now.” 

James shakes his head. “Not just time. Sympathy. They’re still a fringe group.”

Lily looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Is that really what you think, James?” 

He almost says yes. “Not fringe. Not like that. But they’re… people don’t trust them. Not in the way people trusted Grindelwald when he started his war.” 

“People say they didn’t trust him now, though. Doesn't mean they didn't trust him then. People lie.” Lily looks away. “Especially when they haven’t got anything to lose to this.” 

James has plenty to lose. He’s got four friends, and that’s more than he’s ever had, and he wants to live, which is a big improvement from the rest of his life. That feels trivial, though, compared to Lily. Compared to Sirius, even, who seems so much more righteous, so much more impassioned. 

“You’re smart,” James says. 

“My loss,” Lily snipes back. 

“I mean it.” James hesitates. He squeezes her arm against his ribs. “How long…?” 

“How long do I think it’ll take?” Lily doesn’t seem to know how to answer that. 

“You can be honest with me.” 

“My honest answer is that I don’t think there’ll be an ‘it’. If ‘it’ is infiltrating the ministry, they’ve done it. If ‘it’ is passing legislation that makes it harder and harder for mudbloods-” 

“Lily-” 

_ “Mudbloods, _ James, I’m going to keep saying it, if they get to say it so do I, to work in the Ministry, or Gringotts, or any other wizarding establishment.” Lily draws a breath and plows on. “They’ve got that, too. If ‘it’ is hate crimes and violence against us, they’ve got it. If ‘it’ is total control over their families, the ability to be violent to their wives, their kids, to arrange marriages without consent-” 

“They’ve got it,” James finishes. 

“I don’t think they’re far from, uh, staging an accident.” Lily sniffs a little. “Maybe the Minister catches some rare disease, or resigns suddenly after a bereavement. Some well-known old MLE chap takes the position, and he always looks dazed and distant in photos, but nobody notices, or nobody mentions it, or nobody cares.” 

“How far?” 

“A few years, perhaps?” 

“Oh,” James whispers. 

“You see why I’m scared now?” 

“I- yeah.” 

Lily shuffles to sit cross-legged on the desk. James faces her, too. Their knees overlap in the middle. She looks at him intently. “I’m going to get you both out of there before that happens, though. So when-” Her voice shakes. “When the wizarding world gets dangerous for us, we’ve got an escape.” 

“And if you can’t?” James doesn’t mean for it to sound so ungrateful.  _ She must hate you for all you put her through. _

Lily’s face doesn’t change. She takes James’ cheeks in her hands and maintains her steely stare. “Then we’ll run. Sirius plays a tough game, but you know he’d crumble if you threw him into the muggle world. But I-” She draws herself up tall. “I can make us disappear.” 

The idea of disappearing with her is strange in a wonderful way. Strange like chocolate orange and snow in early springtime and other things that shouldn’t make sense but do. 

“But that’s a last resort,” she promises. “Until then, we just survive. Okay?” 

“Okay,” James agrees. “I can do that.” 

(He’s not sure that he can.)

* * *

October brings two howlers from Sirius’ family. 

One of his great aunts has died and he’s refused to come home for the funeral, and they’re not happy about it. Sirius’ mother isn’t like James’, he notes, as he shuffles into bed beside him that evening, burying himself into Sirius’ shirt as Sirius stays tense with anger, so still he might be made of stone. James’ mother is calm and sedate, power behind each of her words. Sirius’ mother speaks like she’s got sharp teeth and she’s not afraid to bite, like each of her words is lined with rat poison.

James can imagine the owner of that voice beating her son with a blunt chair leg. It feels like a frenzy when he thinks of it, chaotic and loud. Sirius cowering into a corner in a dark room, blood on oak floorboards. James’ home is quiet and bright and slow. Sirius’ might sear as badly, but it burns out quicker and hotter. 

“You’re okay,” James tells him. Silencing charm up. Remus asleep and Peter awake. 

“I’m not,” Sirius laughs, and it’s not funny. 

* * *

November sweeps in like a blizzard, cold and impenetrable and hard to see through. James is peeling through a restricted transfiguration book when he sees the word for the first time.  _ Animagus. _

* * *

“You really don’t have to-” Remus starts for the sixth time. 

“Oh, shut up, Remus,” Lily tells him. It’s sounding less and less affectionate every time. Remus doesn’t look the slightest bit afraid. James wonders how he does that when people get angry at him. 

“Yeah,” Sirius says, from James’ other side. The five of them are sitting in a circle on the floor of the third year boys’ dorm, the book open between them. It’s 3AM. “Yeah, shut up, Remus.” 

“Got it,” Remus sighs. He’s squashing a fantastically bright smile, though. “Shutting up.” 

“I think we could do this,” Sirius comments. He looks up at the others each in turn, all of them except for James, because he doesn’t need to look at James to know that James agrees with everything he ever says. “I really do think we could do this. It would take time… a lot of time. A lot of practice. But we could.” 

“And for the last time, you don’t have to-” 

“Shut  _ up _ , Remus,” Lily and Sirius say at the same time. They cast each other curious looks over the open book, twin smiles tugging at their lips at the sight of one another. James loves both of them so much he can’t breathe. 

Oh no.

“Bathroom,” James mutters, and he gets up and flees into the ensuite, slamming the door behind it. 

He loves them. 

Oh no. 

* * *

The five of them agree to start deeper research into animagi after the break, because while most of them are staying at Hogwarts, Peter has to go home, and they don’t want to start without him. When he realises they’re going to wait for him, he smiles so bright and wide that it probably hurts his face. 

“I’m really sorry again,” he apologises to James, as James helps him carry his trunk down to Hogsmede. 

“It’s not a problem, seriously.” James leans the trunk against a tree at the entrance to the small town and huffs, hands on his knees. The hill is a killer. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you get to go home for Christmas.” 

“I’m not,” Peter confesses. He lowers his voice, moving to stand next to James. “My mother’s been… stressed lately. She’s different. I think it’s the war.” 

For a moment, James thinks about Sirius and his mother. “Do you get along with her?”

“Sometimes.” Peter shrugs. His ruddy red cheeks look a little blue in the pale light. It’s due to snow soon. “She’s… y’know.” 

“I don’t,” James says plainly.

“Nevermind, then.” Peter flashes him a grin. “Don’t worry about it. I can take my trunk from here-” 

He goes to grab the handle, but James stops him. “Wait.” 

Peter glances up. “Yeah?” 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” 

“What? Yes, of course.” Peter smiles again. It must seriously be hurting by now. There’s tension around his eyes. “Yeah, it’s…” He pauses. “She’s not like your mother, if that’s- if that’s what you mean. She doesn’t- she’s not-” 

“I know,” James hurries to put in, even though he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything, it’s been years since he last felt sure of a single thing in life and he’s not about to start now. “I know, Pete, it’s not- it’s fine. Sorry for prying.”

“It’s okay.” Peter draws a steadying breath. “She loves me a lot. Y’know. She’s great.” His voice is small and flat.

“Yeah.” 

“Sometimes I worry that she’s…” Peter shakes his head. “Sometimes I worry,” he finishes lamely. 

James hovers, unsure of what to say. “It’s not too late to stay. If you want, I can get McGonagall-” 

“I’m good.” Peter seems to shake himself. He grabs his trunk and doesn’t meet James’ eyes. “I’ll see you after the break!” 

James watches him trot off down the lane. “Bye, Pete!” he shouts after him. Peter doesn’t reply, but he does turn to grin over his shoulder. It looks more like a grimace. 

* * *

Lily’s the only Gryffindor girl that stays. The castle gets emptier every Christmas. James’ first year, fifty students remained. Last year, it was closer to thirty. This year, their little group of four is the largest conglomerate left. Every other student they see is alone, drifting between the shelves in the library or miserably shovelling down breakfast on their own in the Great Hall. 

The four of them spend all the time they can together. Remus has to disappear for the full moon in their first week of break, vanishing the morning of the change and not bothering to wake Sirius or James to say goodbye, like he thinks they won’t notice he’s gone or something. His absence hovers loud between the four of them all day. 

Dumbledore passes James in the hallway that afternoon. He smiles down at him warmly. James forces himself not to startle. 

In the evening, long after night has fallen, Lily creeps up to the boys’ dorm. She knocks lightly on the door three times. James climbs out of the ring of Sirius’ iron-cold arms to answer it. 

On the threshold, in plaid pyjamas, Lily raises her eyebrow at him. “Can I spend the night?” 

“What? Uh- sure.” James lets her in. 

She spends the night on his other side, the three of them tucked like sardines into the twin bed. Lily lies on her back and watches the ceiling, and Sirius burrows into James’ weeping back on his other side, and James wants to be a thunderstorm, a bird, a forest fire. Anything except what he is, which is unworthy -- cold and unworthy and full of too much love. 

Lily sees his back, too. She doesn’t seem to judge, but James can’t be sure. Everybody judges. Everybody lies. By the moonlight through the window, her face might be merciful or disgusted. If he can’t even trust his eyes, there’s no way he can trust his friends. 

“Stop worrying,” Sirius murmurs into the wound sometime through the night. It hurts a little. James doesn’t complain. 

He doesn’t sleep, either. In fact, he’s still awake when something taps on the window early in the following morning. 

Lily and Sirius are still sleeping. One of Sirius’ arms has stretched over the top of the pillows in the night to touch her hair, fingertips brushing over the short, red buzzcut. James climbs gently out from between them and into the pale, grey light of dawn that shines through the window. 

There’s a sleek brown owl on the windowsill, staring at James. Curling his bare toes into the carpet, James stares right back. Then, with a heavy sigh, he lets him in. 

“Hey, Bullet,” he whispers, as the small owl flutters onto his shoulder. “It’s not another howler, is it?” 

The note is short and bare, no envelope, so it’s safe to rule that out. Bullet waits for James to untie it from his leg and zips back out of the window, which James closes after him to keep out the cold December air. 

_ James, _

_ I thought this might cheer you up. I really do think you’d do well in politics.  _

_ They’ve just released the results to us: Elderberry won by two votes.  _

_ Regards,  _

_ Your father. _

“Oh Merlin,” James whispers. The carpet seems to rumble under his feet. “Lily. Lily, wake up-” 

He goes to shake her. She buries herself further under the blankets, groaning. Sirius shuffles closer, too. Their faces are very near one another, breathing in the same air. James feels sick, sick in a good way, sick like when you’ve eaten too much sugar and it sits heavy in your stomach and fizzes through your guts like petrol and makes the back of your throat burn. 

James lets them sleep. They deserve it. 

* * *

“This is our start,” Lily promises, when she’s finally awake enough to process the win. “This is really it. Our start.” 

Sirius lets her hug him. He’s still stiff as a board and twice as breakable, but he doesn’t push her away. James watches them, heart filling up like a well, like a river to carry him to the sea. 

They agree to do it when Sirius turns fifteen, the earliest age for emancipation in the wizarding world. It’s a year and a half away, a year and a half and a whole dreadful summer away, and the idea of Sirius getting himself disowned still makes James want to throw up, makes his stomach twist into tight little knots, but it’s the only way to do this and do it right, because James is an only child and he’s not going to get disowned anytime soon. 

It’s still an awful thing to have to face. James feels nauseous every time he thinks about the future, but that’s nothing new, he supposes. 

“I want to photograph it,” Lily tells him on Christmas Eve. “Your back, I mean.” 

“Hey-” Sirius starts. 

James cuts him off. “Okay,” he says simply. “For the court case, I guess?” 

Lily nods. “We’re gonna need everything we can get.” 

“Right.” James coughs into his elbow and stands up. It’s just the three of them and Remus in the common room, clustered around the fire, but he still says, “Can we…?”

“Yeah.” Lily takes his hand and leads him out of the portrait and into their little abandoned classroom. Snow has piled up on the window, giving the whole room a dull, cozy grey ambience. 

James pulls the back of his shirt up and turns around. Lily’s breath stops. 

“Have you taken it?” he asks after a few seconds. 

“Sorry.”  _ Click.  _ “There.” 

James goes to pull his shirt back down. Lily stops him. 

“Wait,” she commands gently, and then runs a fingertip extraordinarily softly down the edge of the gash. “Let me see if I can help.”

“It won’t heal. We’ve tried.” 

“Did… did they curse it?” 

“She did.” James clears his throat. His arms are starting to burn where he’s bent them around his back to hold his shirt off his skin. “It doesn’t bleed anymore. That’s something.” 

“But it doesn’t close up.” 

“No.” 

“And it still hurts, doesn’t it?” 

James shrugs. “Sometimes. I get anxious sometimes that something’s going to come out of it.” 

Lily’s hand stills. “Something like what?” 

“I dunno. Like bugs or snakes or… or bones, or my spine or something. It’s stupid.” 

A shakily drawn breath. “It’s not stupid. You need therapy.” 

“I need a hug,” James offers. He drops his shirt. “I need a drink. And a break. And a painkiller, or two, or five, and new clothes, and-” he stutters, “I don’t know what I need. Something. Lots of things.” 

“Come here.” Lily holds him exceedingly gently. Nothing like the anchor from before. James breathes in the smell of her short hair and imagines he’s floating away. 

* * *

A pureblood Hufflepuff girl dunks nail polish remover in Lily’s orange juice one morning in February. Lily ends up in the hospital wing for a week, and the girl gets off with a slap on the wrist, because her father’s a well-known donor to the school, and bad press for his family could be bad press for everyone involved. 

“Doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Lily grumbles, on her third night there. “I just want everything to go back to normal.” Her face creases. She knows there isn’t a normal anymore. 

“Yeah,” James says, holding her hand. 

Sprawled in the chair beside him, Sirius shrugs. He’s better at hiding his worry with her than with James. “I agree. You’re alive, that’s about all they can do, right?” 

“Yeah. I think I can give myself medication from here on out.” Lily lowers her voice. “They’re worried it’ll happen again.” 

“Of course it won’t,” Sirius scoffs. 

James and Lily exchange glances. 

“I hope it won’t, anyway,” Sirius amends. 

“I think we’re all just glad to see you looking a little better,” Remus comments softly from the other side of the bed. Peter, fiddling with a loose seam on his shirt, nods along sincerely. 

“Thanks.” Lily’s face softens, but not by a lot. “Surprised she didn’t put magical nail polish remover in. Surely that’s the more toxic option?” she jokes. 

James hides a grimace. The muggle stuff could kill you ten times faster. He doesn’t mention it, because he knows that on some level, Lily’s already aware that somebody tried to kill her, and humour is a bad cope, but a cope nonetheless. 

“We’re going to keep a better eye out for you from here on out,” he promises. “This won’t happen again.” 

“Yeah.” Lily doesn’t meet his eyes, staring down at the covers. Her pale face twitches. “Hey, at least I’ve only got four years of school left.”

“Well,” Sirius says. “That’s assuming we make it that long.” 

Whether he’s referring to the impending death eater takeover or some other looming, apocalyptic event, like the inevitable nervous breakdown in James’ future or Lily’s implosion under blood puritan pressure, or the day when Sirius goes apeshit and kills a teacher or Remus snaps his own neck on a full moon or Peter worries himself into cardiac arrest, it’s not clear. 

“Sev came to visit last night,” Lily whispers to James a few hours later, when Madam Pomfrey has turned a blind eye to her lingering visitors and let them stay overnight. Sirius is asleep on James’ shoulder, Remus and Peter dozing in their own seats. 

“Oh, yeah?” James asks. “What did he think of all this?” 

“He still thinks he’s going to protect me.” 

“And?” 

Lily squares her jaw. She looks at James like he’ll understand and says, “I want to protect myself.” 

James doesn’t understand. He’d give anything for another person’s protection. Maybe that’s why he loves Sirius so intensely. “I know,” he whispers anyway. 

“I’ve got a sort of crazy plan.” 

“On top of the disowning scheme? And the animagus stuff?” 

Lily cracks a tiny grin. “Yeah.” It softens. “But maybe I’ll wait until… next year.” 

“Yeah,” James echoes, and watches her fall asleep.

* * *

After her near-death experience, Lily cuts her hair off again. James shaves the sides and back of his in sympathy, and it looks bloody horrendous, but it makes her smile, and with what she went through, a smile is all he can really ask for. 

Classes get quiet and mundane as spring rolls in. People stare at Lily and James and Sirius in the halls a lot, at their strange little trio, Sirius’ dark, angry mass leading, James’ short, skittish, half-shaved shape hovering beside him, Lily on his other side, with her buzzcut and her hard eyes. They’re strange enough on merit of what they are. Now, who they are has come into public contention, too. 

It turns out that being an animagus is  _ hard _ (who would have guessed?), and the first step is by far the least convenient. James doesn’t know how any of them are supposed to keep a mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire month. He could keep from talking for that long and be absolutely fine, but Sirius would probably explode. 

“Maybe it’d do you all some good to stay quiet that long,” Remus suggests gently when it’s discussed. He’s still always got this half-shocked look on his face, like he can’t believe people care enough to try. 

“It might help Sirius and Lily,” James jokes. “They can’t ever seem to stop talking.” 

Sirius shrugs. “Guilty as charged.” 

“You like it when I talk,” Lily rebuts. 

“I suppose I do,” James concedes. He likes the rhythm of their conversations, he realises idly. The soft, kind lull of their words. 

Animagus training will have to wait until after the summer, at least, and between research for that and study, there’s almost no time to do more digging into the legal side of their proposed escape. May comes far too quickly, like it does every year. The first term lasts years, and the second vanishes from under them like a magic carpet. 

Severus Snape lingers around often, like he thinks he’s some sort of bodyguard. Fat lot of good it does now that she’s already almost died, James thinks privately. He doesn’t say it, though, because he’s determined to trust Lily even if his instincts don’t. 

With June and the end of the year come the nightmares. They arrive and they don’t abate. Lily doesn’t sleep with them in the boys’ dorm after Christmas ends, but James almost wishes she did, because Sirius can help, but there’s only so much he can do. 

* * *

McGonagall pulls James aside after class in mid-June. “I just wanted to-” She stops herself and straightens up to her full height, composing her features. “I wanted to make sure that you and Mr. Black are coping with the workload, especially the summer workload. I assume your circumstances are still quite volatile?”

“You could say that,” James agrees weakly. “Yeah.” 

“Right.” McGonagall stares down at him. He can’t tell whether she looks sad or angry, and if so, who it’s directed at. “If I can do anything to help-” 

“Outside of actually helping, you mean?” 

McGonagall blinks. “I suppose,” she murmurs. “Yes.” 

“I’m fine.” James shuffles backwards. “Can I go, please?” 

“Yes.” McGonagall sighs. “Mr. Potter?” 

Hand on the doorknob, James turns around. “Yes, Professor?” 

“We’re trying to fix things.” McGonagall sweeps across the room to look down at him, looming like a tartan-clad gargoyle. “And when the war comes, you know where Hogwarts will stand.” 

James is overtaken by a sharp rush of bravery. In his mouth, it tastes almost like arrogance. “My best friend almost died earlier this year, Professor, and nobody did anything about it.” 

“There are certain things that are out of our control-” 

“Then control them!” 

“Raising your voice at me will not help anything, Potter, we are on the same side here-” 

“It doesn’t feel like it!” James yells. He throws his hands out in emphasis. “My best friends are a werewolf and a muggleborn who are both preparing for futures where they can’t get jobs- Sirius is getting abused, his mother beats him bloody when he’s at home- we’re trying to build a legal case against our parents on our own, Professor, because we can’t trust adults to do the job right for us!” 

McGonagall has gone very pale. “Mr. Potter…” 

“It’s not about who’s winning the war.” James slams his hand down on a nearby desk so hard it rattles. “It’s not about that, or who’s running the Ministry, or whether you-know-who’s alive. It’s about the fact that all my friends are bloody dying or scared or- or something. And that won’t end even if we get rid of him.” 

“It’s not that simple-” 

“You’re fucking simple,” James snaps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Professor.” He reconsiders. “Actually, I did.” 

_ “Potter-”  _

But James slams the door open and runs off down the hallway and out of site. McGonagall doesn’t bother trying to catch up. 

* * *

“We could jump,” James offers. “We might break something, but it’d be better in the long run.” 

Sirius shakes his head glumly. “I’d love to jump off a moving train, but we’ve still got the trace. They’d snag us in a day.” 

Nearest the window, Lily dozes against the glass. 

James squeezes Sirius’ hand. “Survive this time?” 

“I always do,” Sirius tells him, no smile, no joke to it, though it all feels like one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! stay safe! <3

**Author's Note:**

> reviews/comments really do mean the world. stay safe out there! <3


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